The Dark Frost: Of Gods and Mortals
by Aulani
Summary: AU: "That cannot be," Elsa mumbled with a whisper. Jack traced his fingers across her cheek, but she continued. "This isn't real...none of it. They are just stories, right? Myths, that's all they are..." Modern Fanfic based on Greek and Norse Mythology, Elsa Snow finds herself not only caught in a war between gods, but dangerously in love with the guardian of winter.
1. Legends and Belief

Perhaps at one time it had been known by its proper name, decades ago when the world was a little bit lighter and belief still a fixture in everyday life, but for the last generation the people of Randolph, Maine had allowed a seed of fear to creep into their small town and had taken to calling the old forest something far darker. Wychwood.

Cheerless and sinister, it was filled with gnarled and decrepit trees, barren limbs and shadow filled paths that lead to no-where save empty and dead places. For so long the myths that circled over that thick brown wood became so prevalent that it was almost like an unseen miasma...a terror that would plague or haunt you merely by stepping foot into that overgrown underbrush. The old folk would mutter, worried about its encroachment upon their hamlet, children would use its stories to scare and frighten one another - and the students of Randolph High School - they would use it as the perfect place to test one's daring nerve. A truly dark and terrible legend.

To Samantha Harper, that was all it was...merely a legend. Nothing horrid or demented lay behind that inky black curtain of flora and with a few Coors Light on her empty stomach making her feel brave - she told her friends as much.

"You are all pussies if you think there's something haunting that place," Samantha boasted sliding from the hood of her car to glance about at the circle of her classmates. The moon was hidden, half waxed behind the shadows of thick clouds, but she could still see the scowl that passed over Jeremy Paxton's face. He tightened his fist, making the aluminum beer can inside his hand pop in protest.

"I don't mind being a pussy when it comes to the Wychwood," chimed the voice of Addison Lee. She shook her blond curls and moved in tighter to her boyfriend Matthew, wrapping his arm square around her shoulders. "That place has always given me the creeps. My older brother used to tease me about it when we were little - he said the boogeyman lived there and would drag people away and turn them into nightmares!" Addison shivered. "I was so scared I slept with my parents for five months!"

Matthew chuckled. "You're afraid of the _boogeyman_? Oh, Addison - that's so _lame!_"

"I didn't say I was now, you dick!" She laughed a little too loudly.

"So go in then!" shouted another classmate, Ava Spalding who was always quick to challenge others to feats of courage, especially since she was so against them herself. "Do it! Only fifty feet and then you can run back before the _boogeyman _gets you!"

There was a collection of jeers and taunts that rose up from the rest of their friends along with a chorus of parallel drunken laughter. This was nothing new. In a town as small as Randolph it had become a Saturday night tradition for about a dozen of soon to be seniors to park their cars just outside the forest's edge and waste themselves on alcohol and dares. It was always safer...they always felt some rush of pride and adrenaline coming so close to being in the Wychwood. Never _in _though...had they never set a single foot inside that thicket.

Addison giggled again, though a flicker of _something _passed over her face. "Yeah right, and get lost and my mother have to send the forestry service after me? She would kill me, I'd be in so much trouble!"

Her snickers continued, having successfully evaded the unspoken dare that was always lying just below the surface, but tonight was different. Samantha had been waiting for Jeremy to notice her for far too long, all of junior year and with the moon being slowly swallowed by the growing night's watch and the blood pounding inside her head - she thought she had _finally _figured it out.

"I'll go!" She stated proudly and suddenly there was a hush about them. Every face turned to look at Samantha in open mouthed surprise, eyes darting back and forth to one another. Rounding on Jeremy, Samantha flashed him a quick smirk. "You can come too...prove you're not a pussy!"

Another round of jaunts blasted out from their schoolmates and Jeremy's scowl deepened. Two guys sitting just behind him slapped him on the shoulders, pushing and edging him forward. Samantha tried to retain the aura of confidence, of seeming much braver than she suddenly felt for there was a creeping feeling of dread, a heavy uneasiness that was settling around her. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea...but was it too late to back out now?

"Alright, _fine_," Jeremy suddenly answered pulling himself off the car to stand next to her. "If nothing else to watch you away scared and screaming."

He was smiling at her - a flirtatious and charming smile - and all the doubts immediately flew from Samantha's head leaving a light buzzing in their wake.

"Okay Paxton," she said taking his hand and pulling hard causing him to stumble a bit. "Let's go prove ourselves better than these losers!"

Jeremy laughed and let Samantha drag him forward, all the way up to the line of trees.

"Remember," shouted Ava at their retreating backs. They could hear the grin in her voice. "Fifty feet!"

"We'll make it hundred," Jeremy yelled back. He smirked down at Samantha, whose heart gave a decided leap into her throat. There was only a brief moment's hesitation - when Wychwood slithered up, all dark and ominous to meet them that the shadow of doubt and fear clawed up Samantha's mind. Suddenly this felt..._wrong. _A primal uneasiness was covering her haze of judgment, but at that moment Jeremy squeezed her hand and the cater calls of her friends flooded her ears.

"Let's show them," he whispered at her through his teeth, and nodding forcefully Samantha let him lead her into the wood.

It wasn't as dark as she thought it would be - nor as terrifying. The moon had temporarily escaped its clouded prism and all that Samantha could see were the skinny white trunks of barren birch trees and messes of leafless bramble. Samantha snorted in derision. How could anyone be afraid of this pathetic forest?

"This will take no time at all," Jeremy said confidently striding before her, leaving Samantha to follow along in his wake. "Smooth sailing and then we can go back and rub it in their faces!"

Samantha smiled slightly...the alcohol buzzing in her head. He was right...this would be _so simple. _She glanced up to see Jeremy staring down at her with a knowing tug of the mouth.

"There are easier ways of getting me alone Sam," he said then and Samantha's face flushed hot. Blaming the beer, she stumbled a bit tripping over her feet and words. She wondered why talking was so hard whenever she was drunk.

"Whatever Paxton," she slurred, shoving him. "So full of yourself."

"Just remember it for next time...in fact I think that's more than fifty feet - let's head back and put those losers to shame! I think the beer is on them!"

Samantha agreed and feeling very sure of themselves, the pair turned on their heels, wobbling as they did and made back towards the direction from where they came.

There was something different...something demented, sick and bleak, that horrid feeling that had been growing since she started this stupid bet, came back full force and dropped on Samantha. The shadows in the forest all at once seemed longer..._deeper_. An eerie hush crept over the woods and through the haze of booze induced fog Samantha just knew that this was all..._wrong._

Jeremy slowed then, a flicker of confusion passing over his face. His eyebrows furrowed and he turned his head this way and that, darting about like a bird.

"That's weird," Samantha heard him mumble. "The cars were over there...but I don't remember this log here...no, that way? We should have gotten out of here by now..."

"We're not lost, are we?" She asked unable to keep the quivering completely out of her voice. Jeremy scoffed and waved a hand, but Samantha saw his eyes kept staring around at the never ending birch trees.

"Humph, course not," he said. "It's back this way." He grabbed her hand and trudged off deeper into the Wychwood.

She could swear someone was _following _them, the sound of rustled dried leaves crunching under foot was so loud against Samantha's ears in the gloom. Her eyes snapped upwards, hoping for light, but the moon was gone - it's silver glow halted by the thickness of grey clouds. The bramble patches all looked the same - and she couldn't think straight.

Sweat covered Jeremy's hand, making it slick and hard to grasp. He was moving erratically, turning one way only to back up and try a different path - lost in the sea of trees. Samantha gulped and felt her heart hammer in her ears. They never should have done this. Something was here - _someone _was watching them. Samantha shivered...she was afraid. So incredibly _afraid._

Jeremy had stopped - so sudden that Samantha slammed into the back of him, her breath rushing out in a burst as they wobbled messily, barely remaining on their feet.

"What - what the hell? _Who are you?"_

Samantha peered out from behind Jeremy's bulky shoulder, chest tight and forehead hot. She began trembling, fingers tightening on the lapel of his jacket, because there was a man standing before them. So instantly, as if he had formed right out of the abyss of shadowed trees.

"My, my, my," he simmered through grinning teeth. "Now what could two little children be doing out all alone? And lost in the woods no less..."

Samantha's legs began to shake. She had never seen this man before and everything about him...it _terrified her_. He was tall, much taller than she was and Jeremy as well - with skin an ashen and diluted grey and inky dark hair flushed away from a pointed cruel face. His lanky body was clothed all in black - though black wasn't even the proper color. It was darker than that. _Much darker. _Thin lips pulled back in a sneer over glistening teeth and his eyes - Samantha's heart dropped to settle in the pit of her stomach because they _glowed. _Vicious and other worldly yellow...they stared right through her. Right to the very heart of all her fears.

"Who are you calling children?" Jeremy shouted, slurring the end of his words. "Just show us the way out of here or piss off!"

Samantha couldn't open her mouth, couldn't even _breathe _of the fear that clutched at her throat. She watched as the man rose up his spindly long fingers to drum them across his chin, watching the pair as if they were simply toys.

"I have to say," he continued as if he hadn't heard Jeremy at all. "This is very - very exciting. For me that is...for _you_? Well, I imagine you must be feeling something else..._fear perhaps?_"

They didn't say anything. Samantha wondered if Jeremy could feel the icy grip of cold despair that this man had brought with him - as if his very arrival had plunged them into a place of shock and panic, one that they couldn't claw out of. He smiled at them again, stepping forward - slinking like a snake while they bumbled a step back.

"It doesn't matter..." the dark man grinned through the row of his straight teeth. He looked like a skeleton, with a waxy layer of skin stretched just far enough over his face to hide the hideousness that lay beneath. "Soon you won't be feeling anything at all...Well, _anything but fear."_

"What - what are you talking about?" Came the whispering voice of Samantha, a strain against her frightened strained chest.

"Everything is about to change," he hissed. "There will be nothing but fear and darkness and..._Me. _I've been planning this for so long and now..._now _we can begin."

Jeremy took another step back, Samantha clinging behind while the dark man closed the gap with a long stride of his own. "Begin - what?" Samantha whispered.

"_The Nightmare_."

There was no warning, no indication when one moment he was there…and the next he had vanished into a shadow, cackling as he dissolved like glittering dark acid. Samantha barely had time to unleash a scream before a rustling in the bramble bushes caught their attention. She couldn't breathe, couldn't _think _as a great multitude of horrific creatures can stalking out of the gloom – right towards them. They dripped and shimmered as if they were made out of crystalized darkness, the rustling of their skin sounded like sand but they were hauntings – ghosts with horned heads and glowing eyes. They pointed at the teenage couple, almost in excitement and at the same time Samantha let loose another piercing shriek they covered it with a wail of their own – charging forward.

They ran. Samantha in front and Jeremy shouting at her from behind. It was a blind and panicked sprint, tearing through the trees and thorned bushes without a single thought as to where they could go. Which way would lead them out? Samantha couldn't see – the moonlight had been covered, lost among the night clouds and tears blurred her vision. She felt sick and her legs ached, but she couldn't stop…they were right behind her! _He _was still after them!

Suddenly something hard crashed right into Samantha's back, causing her to tumble forward, crashing and sliding on the ground. She whipped her head back, hair tangling in the mud and sweat on her face, trying to make some sense of what was happening in this darkened gloom.

They had grabbed Jeremy, claws tight around his legs which had caused him to fall and slam into her. Samantha screamed, tears streaming down her face as she tried to scoot away from his flailing body. He was shouting and cursing as the monsters poured over him – their horrid little noises filling the empty air. It continued until every inch of him was covered in darkness…till she couldn't see Jeremy any longer. Samantha sobbed, chocking on her cries when the shadows suddenly moved and _that man _was standing before her again.

"This is what I have been waiting for," he said so calmly and smoothly, hands clasped behind his emaciated back. Samantha shook her head, rubbing the tears from her face smearing dirt across her cheeks. Her back suddenly hit the trunk of a tree and with an awful realization discovered she couldn't move any further.

"_Fear_," he grinned. "This world will be _mine, _its people will be _mine._ Tell me child…do you believe now?"

Samantha blinked, taken slightly aback and confused. There was a long moment, one that seemed to stretch out forever as the body of Jeremy Paxton faded away into the mess of consuming shadows, his voice etched out with a final shout and those _nightmares _turned to prowl towards Samantha Harper.

"Believe in what?" She quaked, even though she _knew…_knew exactly _who he was._

"Do you believe in the _boogeyman?_"

His shadows rushed forward and while Samantha cried in terror, he threw his head back and laughed. He was the last thing she saw, the flash of his skeleton teeth, the blaze of his glowing eyes…before darkness consumed her. All the lights within winked and smothered out.

Over four thousand miles away, in the town of Sitka Alaska…Elsa Snow woke up screaming.


	2. Frosted Panes and Pancakes

The room was still dark and cold as Elsa struggled to sit up and calm her ragged breathing. Her chest and head hurt, she could feel the dull throbbing in her ears and it took just a moment, peering through the dimness of her room to realize where she was.

"Just a dream," Elsa mumbled to herself. "Just a dream…"

She tried to untangle her legs from the mess of sheets that had twisted about her during her thrashing. Her bangs were plastered to her cheeks and neck – evidence of how distressed she had actually become and she tried to brush them away with shaking fingers. Else felt raw and weak. It was just a dream, she kept repeating to herself, over and over in her head like a prayer…but it had felt so _real._

Elsa tightened her grip absent mindedly on the coverlet under her. She tried to push those thoughts away – to forget the terror that she had felt, trapped in her visions, watching as that man in black had _devoured _those two people. Chocking slightly she stood in a flash and in three strides crossed her room and threw open her bay windows, filling herself with the rush of Alaska's fall air.

The sun was just rising, turning the sky into a kaleidoscope of pinks and blues. Closing her eyes Elsa soaked in the bitter and crisp feeling that radiated against her skin, a wash of relief and comfort began to drape over her small shoulders and cover her body. She breathed deeply, gripping her fingertips on the open window sill. Elsa had always preferred the cold, it had a way of _stilling her_ – a glorious refreshment that sent shivers down her bare arms and pushed away all those nightmares. Even now, those awful images were fading away from her memory and as Elsa took another deep breath she found herself forgetting the dream entirely.

She glanced up into the open sky, wondering idly at the time as she saw a few brazen stars still winking brightly in the dawn's rosy fingers. Elsa smiled at their dazzling facets, so alive and vivid in the Northern heavens. A chill of frost suddenly rose across her fingers and she looked down with a surprise start.

Little sheets of ice, exquisite and delicate like the stars she had been watching were suddenly under her hands. They ran up in elegant spidery patterns across the window pane and Elsa's mind whirled in confusion because she didn't remember there being any frost on the sill when she had thrown it open - or had she just been too distressed to notice...

Suddenly a knock on the door jolted Else out of her wonderings. She jumped back a bit, blinking as her Aunt's smooth voice wafted through the closed door.

"Elsa?" She heard her ask. "Elsa, are you awake? I thought I heard you moving about…"

"Yes," Elsa stammered, clamoring around in the still dim light of her room to throw on a pair of lounge pants. She almost tumbled when a foot became stuck. "Yes…I'm sorry," she continued fumbling, this time for the lamp on her dresser. "Come in, I'm awake."

The door knob turned slowly before the smiling face of Elsa's Aunt Beatrice appeared. She was a refined and poised middle aged woman, with a lovely oval face and shoulder length chestnut hair. Her eyes, framed behind square shaped glasses, were bright intelligent green and the grin she gave when she saw Elsa standing near the window showed off her high cheekbones and thin lips.

Aunt Beatrice was already dressed for the morning, a thick stylish cardigan and dark woolen trousers, but despite her warm attire she still shivered upon entering the room.

"_Lord, Elsa_," she muttered wrapping her sweater tight around her arms. "It's freezing in here! And you're sleeping with just a sheet? Aren't you _cold?_"

Elsa felt herself give a small smile and a shrug. "Not really. I like it this way."

Aunt Beatrice shook her head in response. "Well your sister doesn't feel the same – I swear I had to dig her out from a mountain of quilts just now. Has she always been so difficult to get up in the morning?"

Elsa's grin became a little wider at the thought of her younger sister, delved and holed up under a mound of blankets, dug in like a hibernating bear with her hair in a disheveled mess.

"Oh yes," she replied at last. "Always."

"Well thankfully she is up now…though I don't know how _awake _she is. I made breakfast – you are more than welcome to join us…Your uncle has already left for work and I know your first class doesn't begin until nine, but…" Aunt Beatrice trailed off slightly, her eyes searching her young niece's face as if waiting for her to respond seemingly at a loss for words. Elsa understood. Everything was new and hard for her too. She rubbed her arm somewhat shyly, a strange silence stretching across the room. She felt a small weight of guilt settle on her shoulders. She really should join them…it was Anna's first day after all. She should see her off.

"Thanks Aunt Beatrice," Elsa answered at last, just as Beatrice had made to turn back to the door. "I'll be down in just a second."

Elsa saw her Aunt's mouth tug upwards, a flicker relief and gratitude pass over her features before she gave a curt nod. "See you in a bit then," she said before closing the door and disappearing back down the stairs to the kitchen.

Elsa gave a small sigh and slowly collapsed onto her disordered bed. It had been three months…three months since her mother and father, Dr. Henry and Olivia Snow, had been killed in that car crash. Three months since she and Anna had made the long trek from their hometown of Columbus, Ohio to the cold, oceanic city of Sitka to live with their mother's sister: Beatrice and her husband, Thomas Marshall. It had been hard…for all those in their small family, but her Aunt and Uncle had been kind and gentle – welcoming the two girls into their homes and comforting them as best they could. In truth, it was only Anna that had had to move, too young at sixteen to live without a proper guardian as Elsa had turned eighteen the prior year…but she wouldn't leave her sister. She would _never _leave Anna alone. Not to fend for herself, alone with her hurt and grief, in a new school, a new state – a _new world. _Never.

So Elsa had packed up her belongings, declined her acceptance to Ohio State University and transferred to the University of Alaska Southeast, to make sure her sister would be alright. Her Aunt and Uncle had just smiled, Beatrice with tears threatening to spill from her eyes as they had brought the girls into their grand home.

"This is yours now," Uncle Thomas had said, squeezing Elsa's shoulder. "You will always have a home here."

Elsa had been prepared…had squared her shoulders, ready to beg and plead with her Aunt and Uncle to take her too. Whatever it took to stay with Anna. In the end, however, it hadn't mattered. Elsa had scarcely opened her mouth before her Aunt had enveloped her in a tight embrace.

"You don't even have to ask."

Elsa rubbed her fingers across her eyes, finding them cool and calming. Only three months – three months and already it felt like a lifetime. A strange, other worldly lifetime that she ached for. A hole had arisen in her chest at the death of her beloved parents and no matter how much she cared for her aunt and uncle, how lovely her new room was…she wondered if she would ever be the same – be completely _whole_ again.

A light breeze ruffled the ivory gossamer curtains that outlined her windows. The air smelled of frost and the sea and it made the corners of her mouth tug up just slightly. Elsa sat in silence, relishing the wind as it moved her still sticking, sweaty hair from her eyes. She watched as the sky continued to grow gold, shafts of glittering sunshine spilling across the sleeping Sitka. Giving a small sigh, Elsa supposed she had stalled long enough. Before all this…before Alaska, before the move, before her parent's death – breakfast had been a family affair. Gathering together they would laugh and delight in each other's company…well that and Anna's awful morning hair.

But those times were gone, ripped from her fingers and the ache in Elsa's chest pulsed harshly at her dark thoughts. Trying her best to conceal and smoother them, she stood suddenly with resolve and pulled on a light sweater. Shutting the window with a minute click, at last she descended down the staircase and into her aunt and uncle's wide, spacious kitchen.

The smell of bread and bacon floated up before she even cross the landing and one glance across the counter showed that her aunt had been busy. There was a tray piled high with crispy bacon and sausage, a bowl of fruit as bright as jewels, and a great steaming stack of fluffy white pancakes. Aunt Beatrice was pouring out coffee when Elsa quietly slid into one of the bar stools that was stationed around the countertops edge. There was an incoherent grumbling to her right and Elsa turned, giving a rare full smile, as her younger sister Anna groggily lifted her head up from where she had been sprawled out along the slab.

"I'm actually surprised you're out of bed," Elsa snickered while Anna continued her groaning.

"Well you know me," she yawned. "I can never resist pancakes."

Elsa gave another small grin and flicked a strand of her sister's strawberry blond hair out of her face. Anna looked so much like their mother – with her bright sea green eyes, rosy cheeks and thin lips. Save for the hair, which was the exact same shade that their father's had been. Elsa had inherited the slim build, high cheekbones and oval face that all the women in her family seemed to possess – but her hair was white blond, eyes a deep blue and skin much paler than her sister's. Even though Elsa never seemed to see her parent's traits when she gazed in the mirror…it was comforting to see them radiate from Anna. She smiled again and began serving a few delicious smelling pancakes to her own plate, topping them high with strawberries and syrup.

"Who can?" she joked, nodding her head in thanks as Aunt Beatrice passed her a warm mug of coffee.

"It's the only thing worth getting out of bed for in the morning," Anna yawned as she filled her mouth with heaping bite. "Oh! Chan I 'ave one _lease_?"

Elsa snorted as her sister tried to form understandable words around a mouth full of pancake, glancing back and forth between the coffee nestled snugly in her aunt's hand and the one next to Elsa's plate. Aunt Beatrice raised an eyebrow. Anna swallowed quickly before continuing.

"If I don't I'll sleep through my first class," she started. "Which I _totally _don't want to do on my first day."

Their aunt fixed Anna with brief appraising look. "Alright," she relented at last. "But I'll make a thermos for you. Finish up those pancakes, school starts soon and you need to drop by the office before your first class."

Anna nodded and swallowed another gooey filled fork full.

"Are you nervous?" Elsa asked in a whisper. Her sister gave a small shrug.

"A little," she admitted almost sheepishly. "I mean it's my junior year after all and these kids already know each other…and…"

She gave a small huff, eyes darting downwards. "What if no one likes me or I can't make any friends! What if the teachers are mean and I flunk all my classes…What if..."

"Anna," Elsa said suddenly stopping her worrying rampage. "You're going to be fine. You'll be amazing! Of course you'll make friends – everyone will love you. Don't worry about your classes – you're smart and you'll learn fast…"

"Thanks Elsa," Anna said softly.

"Besides," interjected their aunt. "Here's a full thermos of coffee to help you power through."

Anna took the outstretched canister with a smile. "You're a lifesaver Aunt Beatrice."

Beatrice chuckled briefly before flipping over the watch on her wrist and loading up her keys and purse. "Ready to go? We better leave now to get there early enough. I've heard that parking lot can get rather crowded."

Anna nodded, but as she stood Elsa saw a flicker of anxiety pass over her face. Without a moment's hesitation she wrapped her younger sister in a tight hug.

"You'll be fine," she mumbled into her ear. "Just enjoy your first day."

"You too," Anna replied squeezing her in return before slugging a thick jacket onto her shoulders. "First day at Southeast right?"

"Yes – so…I guess…_go Whales_?"

Anna laughed heartily at her sister's poor enthusiasm. "Good luck then," she said before grabbing her backpack and turning on her heel to follow their aunt out the door. Elsa fiddled with her hands slightly, an odd uneasiness creeping at her chest. For a brief moment – she _remembered _the dream. The awful flashes of fear and darkness that had consumed her whole body. Her fingers suddenly felt cold, almost if they were pricked with frost and panicking to break these abrupt feelings that were threatening to spill over, she called out to her sister.

"Anna!"

Anna was just about to close the front door when Elsa's slightly strained voice met her ears. Poking her head out of the frame she turned back in confusion.

"What is it?" She wondered.

"I love you," Elsa shouted back and a wide smile broke out across Anna's face.

"I love you too."

She closed the door and silence again filled the Marshall's kitchen. Elsa let loose a slow shaking breath…but the spell was broken. The dream was once again forgotten. Without a second thought to the dark visions that had plagued her or the unexpected tiny tips of ice that had oddly appeared on her finger tips, Elsa sat down to finish her pancakes, relishing in each syrupy bite.

* * *

_Reviews are like cookies for the soul...I really like chocolate chip ;)_

_- Aulani_


	3. Dire Warnings

Jack Frost never considered himself an artist in the generic sense of the word, but the exquisite designs of the snowflakes that spread out from under his feet were certainly more glorious than any painting created by human hands. Their intricate patterns interwove together like some great threaded tapestry, an unbroken mesh to cover western Colorado in nothing but glittering ice and snow.

Jack loved the monochromatic feel of the world around him. Cool greys, iced blues and untainted whites – absolute undisturbed perfection. He grinned to himself, trailing his long wooden staff across the snow pack sending sheets of ice to cover the waters of a nearby pond. The bitter cold wind picked up and flustered his stark white hair along with a rambling of fresh powder that twirled about in lazy circles. Jack turned his eyes upwards, relishing in the freezing brush across his face and the rolling look of the steel grey sky. A thin fluttering of minute flakes began falling, sticking to his long lashes and catching inside his mouth. It looked like a rain of confetti. A snowfall to herald the coming winter.

"A freeze already? I imagine Sloan will have something to say about this."

The voice broke into Jack's previous silence, resounding over the barren scene from over his shoulder, but he didn't turn in greeting. There was no need – the gruff tone and drawing accent were tale-tell signs enough of who his sudden trespasser was.

"What do I care," He retorted and began rolling a snowball between his palms. "That spoiled princess is still busy with her foliage out in the northeast. Besides, I'm predicting a long and harsh winter this year. Better to start early."

His intruder snorted, one full of scoff and derision.

"I imagine the god of winter does as he chooses," came the almost disdainful retort. "Without caring much for other spheres of influence."

Jack scowled, his pale eyebrows drawing together. At last he turned, leaning lazily upon his staff, the snowball still clasped in his left hand – rolling back and forth across his palm just behind him.

"What do you want Bunmund? Surely you didn't come all the way out here to lecture me – I know how _sensitive _you are to the cold."

Bunmund, god of the wilds and hunt, was a great beast of a man and stood just a few lengths away – not answering at first, but merely fixing Frost with a critical eye. He was already tall, though the grand set of horns and ears that rose from his head caused him to tower above the other deities, Jack being no exception. His massive arms and square jaw were covered in thick salt and pepper hair and his eyes were both fierce and gentle. He wore robes made of fur and hide with a fine belt of hare hung low on his waist. It was befitting for a god of his distinction, but Jack often teased that it gave him quite the rabbit tail instead.

Despite the frequent and often callous sparing of words and egos that combusted between Frost and Bunmund – there was also an underlying tone of begrudged respect. Though Jack would be loathed to admit it aloud. This unexpected meeting was merely one such time.

"I have better things to do then waste my breath trying to teach you, dip-shit," Bunmund grumbled crossing his arms. "And I didn't come to just have a chat with you in this freezing wasteland. This is important Jack…"

"More important than an early snow day?" Jack interjected lodging the snowball straight for the other god's head. Bunmund ducked quickly with a growl, though the offending ice barely skimmed through the opening curve of his antlers.

"Much more," he ground out, his frustration showing in the tenseness of his shoulders. "Isar has asked to see you. He's worried about _something. _So get your ass there now."

"So you're Isar's messenger god now?" Frost smirked swinging his staff around to rest across his shoulders instead. "Tell him I'll come when I damn well please. I'm due for a blizzard in Northern Alaska and can't be late."

"_Frost."_

Jack stilled, the smile on his face fading just slightly. Bunmund's eyes were blazing and his low dark tone had struck something inside the god of winter. There was a mirror of distress reflected in him…anxiousness and _fear. _Jack frowned, confusion wracking his thoughts as he pulled the staff back to his side, walking the few paces forward to where Bunmund stood rigid in a snow bank.

"That serious?" Jack asked in a low whisper. Bunmund slowly nodded.

"Serious enough for me to come out here in this glacial hell hole to _get you_," he hissed in reply. "Something's going on mate. I can feel it – the whole wilds have been on edge lately. And before you say it – _no_, it's notlike in mating season you prick. Just…"

Bunmund gave a huff and uncrossed his arms. "Truthfully Jack…Isar didn't tell me what all this is about, but he asked me _personally _to come and get you – and Jack, the _Anax _don't do things _personally. _It just seems like everything is growing darker…since the death of Aion. Have you not _felt it_?"

Jack Frost shifted on his feet slightly. He had felt it. Of course he had - they all had. Gods weren't supposed to die, to be killed – or _murdered. _Yet, Aion – the greatest and lord over the Hall of Gods had. Drained of life, slumped over his own gold throne, eyes wide, empty and shocked – almost as if he couldn't believe the last moments that lead to his death. The death of an immortal god. There was no explanation, no sense of what might have happened and still they all knew _nothing. _Oh, Jack had felt it all right. He had felt the dark omens creeping across this earth, bleeding down from the Hall of Gods onto the mortal plane. It had affected everything – shifted _everything, _leaving all the deities struggling to maintain their guardianships, to keep normalcy and peace moving in the temporal human world.

He didn't reply to Bunmund, but the grave look Jack gave him was answer enough.

"So go mate and maybe you can put some answers to all the riddles."

Jack grumbled in the back of his throat. "Fine," he said. "I'll go see what the _big boss _has to say. Alaska will have to make due for a little while till I get there. Maybe you're little bunnies will get to prance around in the fall flowers for a while longer…in fact, why don't you go frolic with them now Bunmund?"

Bunmund choked. "When have I ever _frolicked?"_ He snarled.

"I distinctly remember _someone _at the Summer Solstice last year romping about, chasing Tatiana around the Fountain of Waters. The flowers in your antlers were a nice touch by the way."

"That's because _someone else _had spiked the nectar!"

Jack grinned widely, jumping smoothly in the air as Bunmund roared, lashing forward to try and seize the god of winter round the neck.

"Oi! You bloody pounce, get back here!"

"Sorry _Bunnymund_," Jack laughed floating safely out of the fuming god's reach. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Now, I'm due for a very important meeting so if you'll excuse me…"

Bunmund muttered a few choice words under his breath, but as Jack turned to leave he saw the god give him a small salute, eyes grave. Frost replied with a curt and quick nod before bounding over the stark expanse of ice and spinning up through the flurry of his snowflakes. With a rush from the North Winds he soared away, winking out of sight and back to the Eldervale, home of the gods. The Isar was waiting.

* * *

Isar Lunar had been the youngest son of the great god Aion, but the one unanimously chosen by the other deities of Eldervale to lead them. When his father's violent and brutal murder had been discovered the Hall of Gods had plunged into utter chaos. Darkness, fear and suspicion had wormed its way into each immortal heart and many had turned on each other, the bitter anger and unrestrained hate bleeding down into the mortal world. A war among gods never boded well for those on earth and Jack still remembered how heavy and malevolent that time had been. The _Dark Ages _as they came to be known in the human's history…

In the end it had been Isar Lunar who had controlled the chaos, pacified the gods and restored peace to both realms. Despite Sol being the natural choice to ascend the throne, the god of the sun being the eldest of the _Anax _or the three resplendent sons of Aion, he had immediately stepped beside. Sol had known what was best for Eldervale – he knew the wisdom his younger brother possessed and when the time came he threw his entire support behind the young god of the moon and life. There was never any question afterwards who would sit on the Gold Throne.

Well…except from _Pitch_. As Jack Frost landed with ease and grace on the grounds of Eldervale he frowned deeply just thinking about that demented god. Pitch, who had simmered – almost _delighted _in the turmoil that had befallen the realms when Aion had been discovered. Pitch, who had never mourned the death of his _own father_ and sulked in the shadows, snaking around the Hall of the Gods watching with those disturbing eyes of his, lips pulled back in a very baleful sneer. It had only been when Isar was chosen as lord of Eldervale that Jack had seen a swarm of emotions play out over the dark god's face. Rage, infuriation and revulsion along with a flicker Jack had never seen on the king of darkness and death before…_fear._

These thoughts played about in Jack's head as he slowly ascended the gold stairs that lead to the Hall of Gods. He felt his clothing _shift, _changing from his unassuming hoodie and worn pants, to robed chainmail of silver and blue. His staff dissolved way, a mere wisp in the morning air and a cloak of ice and frost descended from his shoulders – the true raiment of the god of winter and winds. While he never stayed in Eldervale for too long, as Jack preferred his bitter cold citadels in the north, he always enjoyed breathing in the translucent beauty that was the home of the gods. He likened it to a tropical oceanic paradise, similar to those on earth that he never was able to visit save in passing. Balmy temperatures and warm beaches were not exactly what Jack Frost would consider, what Bunmund called in his 'sphere of influence.' But he could admire them all the same.

The Hall of the Gods was a great gold and ivory building set on the highest hill in the Eldervale, guarded by a massive set of gold etched doors. Across its surface hundreds of images were carved, each representing a guardian that worked to shape the planes of mortals and immortals alike. The three _Anax _were the largest: a sun, scepter and moon interwoven together at the crest of the doors, but below them were all the other deities of Eldervale. Jack saw a cluster of stars for Vega the goddess of starlight, victory and wisdom; flowers for Adalind goddess of love, beauty and desire, even a mighty set of antlers that signified the obstante Bunmund. His own emblem, a knot of snowflakes was placed just under the circular wane of the moon and Jack stared at it briefly as the doors opened of their own accord welcoming him into the Hall.

He crossed the threshold and made his way into the cavernous room, the ceiling rising high above him and open to the sky. The main chamber was circular with fifteen ivory thrones spaced around a vast map of the world impressed upon the tiled floor. At the northern most end, set apart from the others by a small incline of steps sat the golden throne and upon it Jack Frost saw Isar Lunar waiting patiently for his arrival.

Isar appeared as a young man, no more than five and twenty, with curling silver and gold hair and limitless silver eyes. Lean, long muscles and broad proud shoulders were clothed in armored robes of white and across his brow was a ring of gold leaves – the crown of his father that was now rightful his. He was handsome, proud and honorable, a true king among gods…and Jack _respected_ him. Though he had teased Bunmund mercilessly, he would never refuse a request from the lord of Eldervale.

At the moment Isar was immersed in thought, the furrow between his eyebrows was hard-etched and deep. He sat with his hands folded before his mouth, listening as a short and squat man seemingly made of gold spoke animatedly in front of him.

"…and the nightmares are growing. At first I paid no mind to it – they were small isolated incidents and mortals are very often fickle, but it has happened a few times since and now I am growing concerned. Their dreams are turning into desolate, twisted things…"

Jack approached slowly, unsure whether he should be overhearing such things but as his footsteps echoed off the marble floor the gold man stopped speaking. He turned in confusion, showing a face with round cherub cheeks and a small button nose.

"Frost," the gold man nodded in greeting.

"Ole Lukoje," Jack replied back, the title a formality for the god of sleep and dreams. Jack had always preferred the nickname mortals gave him - _the Sandman _or just Sandy for short. Ole Lukoje was too much of a mouthful to use in normal conversation, but here in the Hall of the Gods he supposed he could give the diminutive deity a little respect.

"Jack Frost. Thank you for coming."

Isar Lunar rose from his chair, standing tall above them and gave Jack a brief incline of the head. Frost, himself bowed much lower, dropping his eyes to the floor.

"Well I was in the neighborhood," he said straightening. "And since that annoying _Bunnymund _mentioned something, I thought I might drop in for a bit."

Jack saw Isar smirk slightly before he turned back to the Sandman.

"What else?" He asked gravely. Sandy's gaze darted between Isar and Jack, but he continued albeit hesitantly.

"It seems to only occur in _cold places. _And I am sure you know what begins to happen around this time of year…the days grow shorter, the nights longer. I am afraid…I am afraid that soon it will become worse. _Much worse. _I can't have this defiling my domain."

"I understand," Isar said after a pause. "I will speak with my brother. He will have to answer for his encroachment upon your guardianship. Thank you Ole Lukoje."

The Sandman fidgeted for just a moment, but in the end he relented with a small bow.

"I appreciate it Isar," he said sincerely. "I am not overly fond of speaking with your elder brother."

"Who is?" Mumbled Jack out of the corner of his mouth. The little gold god stooped over once more and then without another word spoken between them he dissipated into swirls of glimmering sand, fading away with the soft sounds of the grain against the marble floor.

"_Pitch_ again?" Jack asked darkly, turning to the king god once the Sandman had disappeared from the Hall. "Is this what you wanted to speak to me about?"

Isar ran his hands over his face giving a small groan, but he nodded slowly. "Yes," he said solemnly. "I know the Sandman sees this only as him meddling too much into his sphere, but I worry that there's something more to all of this. Something much more menacing. That is why I asked Bunmund to call you here. I needed someone I could trust and with Vega down in the mortal plane…"

"You think he's planning something?"

"I can't put my finger on it," Isar continued crossing his arms. "The man is as slippery as a snake. But I wanted you to be on guard Jack. My brother has not exactly made it secret how much he would like you as an ally. He has a fascination with all things _cold. _You heard Sandy just now…he's been intruding only in northern places and he's right…with the coming months your sphere will only grow greater and stronger."

"What are you saying?" Retorted Jack. "Do you want me to allow Sloan a longer season?"

"No, I'm not saying that. I am merely saying be careful. Whatever Pitch is planning – my suspicions tell me he will scheme to involve you."

Jack was silent then. It was true that the god of death and darkness had tried to sway him in alliance when all that madness had occurred with Aion, but Jack had never wavered. His loyalty had always been with Isar. Surely that damned deity knew this. His fury rose at the thought of Pitch using his brilliant and untarnished winter to further his nightmares. He ground his teeth together in aggravation.

"I'll make sure to keep a look out," he hissed.

"I will speak to my brother," Isar continued. "I am sure he will deny any such involvement into Sandy's realm, but I will tell you what transpires between us. However, I am sure his lies will run as deep as the roots of the earth."

Jack nodded. "If I see him, I'll let you know. After I freeze him solid for defiling my snow days that is."

Isar fixed him with a look, but his eyes shimmered with amusement. Jack grinned widely and then gave an overly dramatic kneel, complete with his hands in a flourish causing a swell of snowflakes to cascade across the Hall of the Gods.

"Now if you'll excuse me my lord I'm late for a blizzard in Alaska."

"Have fun building snowmen," the Isar replied waving him off with a smirk pulling at his mouth. Jack laughed lightly and holding his right hand out reached for the long crooked staff that materialized within his fingers. With a final bow, this one much more sincere, Jack Frost flew from the Hall of the Gods and back out into the mortal world.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_I know I've used a lot of Ancient Greek terminology, so I will do my best to clarify. Aion is part of an Ancient Greek term aionios meaning "lasting for an age." Anax means "lord, master or king" and I thought it was fitting for the head trio of gods in this story. Think of them kind of like Zeus, Poseidon and Hades…*wink*wink* Tatiana is meant to be this story's version of the Tooth fairy. I'm sorry, but Toothiana? Ugh – no. Just no. 'Ole Lukoje' was the original name for the Sandman in the Hans Christian Andersen's folk tale._

_I am striving for a more mythical feel to this story, which is why you will see many parallels between this fanfic and the legends of ancient Greece. Also, you might see some similarities with Norse mythology (where you get the actual origins of Jack Frost) and the Percy Jackson novels because we're dealing with similar themes here. I have really enjoyed creating and researching this fanfic, quite a bit of thought and effort has gone into it so I'm hoping it shows and you're enjoying it as well._

_Here's the part where I plug shamelessly for follows and reviews. I'm not above begging…_

_- Aulani_


	4. Snowball Fights

"Anthropology is not merely the study of humanity – that would be its definition in the most bland and rigid sense. But rather it is the in-depth analysis, the delving and understanding of where we came from, _who we are _and what has shaped us."

Elsa glanced up from her loopy handwriting to watch as Dr. Settler lectured from the front of the room. He paced around the semi-circular ring of thirty or so desks where their small class was jumbled about, watching intently or scribbling furious notes.

"Origins, physical and cultural characteristics, social customs and beliefs," the professor continued straightening the pair of glasses on his long nose. "All these terms you will find if you look up the word in a dictionary…but what does that mean to _you? _What does that mean for _us? _That is what we will be dissecting, studying and absorbing this semester – the question of mortals throughout the ages. This is the basis of anthropology and – the topic of your first group project."

There was a small collective groan that rose up from the moving heads around the classroom, but it was promptly ignored by Dr. Settler. Instead, he began passing out heavy stacks of paper, each piece slamming against the desk with a resounding splatter. As he made his rounds passing each awaiting table, Elsa began to fidget mindlessly with the ends of her long braid. It wasn't that she was a poor student – quite the opposite in fact. It was only just…she bit her lower lip, watching as students around her naturally began pairing off, laughing in hissed whispers and perusing through Dr. Settler's pamphlet with frowns. Her eyes glanced downwards and a small, shaky breath rolled from her mouth. These situations made her so uneasy. Why did teachers always insist on random collective assignments? Elsa wasn't bursting with outward confidence. She was quiet, serious and shy – a cursed trifecta when it came to dealing with communal projects.

Perhaps it was something she could scrape by and complete on her own? Elsa could vaguely hear the baritone voice of Dr. Settler ordering her classmates about, a reprimand already on his tongue. Her full attention was instead focused on her paper copy as it slid across the slick surface of her desk. Searching it quickly, she discovered to her utter disappointment that this was not an individualistic task. Even worse – _partners._

Elsa felt a slight panic rise in her throat and she blinked as the professor's muddled voice came squarely back into focus.

"I-I'm sorry," she mumbled and dropped her head slightly when Dr. Settler's bushing eyebrows rose in mild aggravation. "I'm sorry, but can you repeat that?"

"I said, who still does not have a partner," he replied with a huff glancing around at them all. To Elsa's absolute mortification her slender white hand was the only one that raised into the air.

"Hm," her instructor blinked. "I could have sworn I got the correct number…Let's see: _two, four, five…"_

He began counting the many turned faces among the classroom, all of which seemed to be staring right at her. Elsa felt a hot blush begin creeping across her cheeks and the strangest sensation prickling through her hands. It was the same one she had felt earlier that morning, standing beside her window and gazing at the fading stars. Dropping her head she noticed, to her utter disbelief, flecks of ice rimming along her fingernails. Beautiful little webs of minuscule snowflakes, flanking the edges and trailing down her knuckles to rest in her palms. She blinked in wonderment and confusion.

"…_twenty nine_," Dr. Settler ended, breaking her concentration and causing her head to snap up once more. "I thought there would be thirty…" But he never finished because at that moment the classroom door banged open and the last student came tumbling in.

"_Oh! _Oh, I'm sorry! So sorry," the young woman said. "I was-"

"Forget it," snapped Dr. Settler effectively ending her tirade. "Just take this and sit _there. _Looks like you will have a partner after all."

Elsa managed a weak smile. The late arrival gave him a quick apologetic look before sliding softly into the open seat behind her. Obviously flustered, Dr. Settler was clearly not used to any disturbances. He waved his hands distractedly at the class.

"You have the outline then," he grumbled, pushing his glasses up his nose once more. "You are college students now – I fully expect you to be able to follow directions…and keep track of time for that matter – without me having to hold your hand."

There was a small snort from somewhere within the mass of Elsa's classmates, but the professor continued. He would not bother to be interrupted again.

"Remember," he said. "Anthropology is all encompassing, an immense collection of knowledge about our history. It is personal and intimate. It is the fabric of our makeup. Culture, religion, social structures – each so different within our own world! Therefore, I do not want some generalized, low-quality, _shit-ass piece of work!"_

He stared at all of them over the black rim of his glasses. Elsa took the brief moment to turn down at her hands once more, but there was nothing. Had she _imagined it_? Her fingers still felt bitter cold, but then again – she always seemed to feel that way…Blinking rapidly, her mind whirling with unanswered questions Elsa looked back towards Dr. Settler, who with an annoyed flick of the hand, was dismissing the class.

"Take this time to pursue your assignment," he shouted at the retreating backs of the students. His cries fell on many deaf ears as the only thing blazing through undergraduate's minds was the early release. "This is half your grade after all…"

Elsa gave an exasperated sigh, fumbling to pack her things away. She was still slightly shaken, wondering about mysterious bits of frost and ice when a light tap to her shoulder spurred her out of her thoughts.

"I am sorry about that," came the voice behind her. "My meeting before this class went much too long."

Elsa turned slowly, pushing her hair back from her eyes and letting a small grin grace her features.

"That's alright," she mumbled. "I think he's a little eccentric and would have broken the class regardless. He seems very passionate about his subject."

"Perhaps," her new partner smiled. "Anyways – I'm Vega Myeong. Pleasure to meet you."

Elsa returned the grin rather awkwardly, but shook the young woman's outstretched hand just the same. Vega seemed a few years older, but she was bright, lively and beautiful with very long dark hair and straight white teeth. She had the loveliest smile and the most vibrant navy blue eyes Elsa had ever seen. Combined with her lithe, gracile build and the loose grey sweatshirt she wore, emblazed with the university's emblem, Elsa was distinctly suspicious that Vega was some form of college athlete and her smile faltered just slightly. She had never had a very harmonious relationship when it came to athletics – or their participants. She always seemed so opposite – never quite a meshed fit.

But Vega was still waiting, with that radiant grin, almost as if she knew the social awkwardness that plagued her. Elsa blinked a few times before nodding slightly.

"Elsa," she said. "Elsa Snow. It's nice to meet you too."

"Already a project to do," Vega started, keeping in stride with her as they exited the classroom. Elsa briefly noticed the boring stare of Dr. Settler settling on the pair as they left the threshold, but Vega continued without any more mention of their glowering professor.

"Do you have some time to look this over," she asked as they emerged into the late morning, the sky growing in masses of great revolving clouds. "I was thinking about grabbing some coffee – would you like to join me, or do you have another class?"

"No, not until twelve thirty," Elsa answered quietly shifting her straining book bag across her shoulders.

"That's good luck then," Vega continued. "I hate leaving these things to the last minute."

Elsa gave a quick nod in agreement and they settled in a comfortable step towards the Student Union and the center of their campus. Throngs of people ambled all about, most with boisterous faces, shining with shouts and laughter – others were more serious and grave, eyes and noses buried behind thick textbooks or heaps of syllabic papers. The air was buzzing with the sounds of _life _moving all about them, and there was a chill on the wind that wrestled back Elsa's hair. It wove the promise of oncoming winter – the closing of autumn and the smell of frost. Elsa took a deep breath, the rush of it filling her lungs. It was joyous.

"Would you mind if we had our coffee outside?" She asked Vega startling herself with boldness. She saw Vega raise her eyebrows slightly and Elsa realized that no sane human would want to willingly sit outside in this icing weather.

"Sorry, I know it's odd - I just…I just like the cold," she trailed off, bordering with great embarrassment but to her surprise Vega grinned, almost as if she held some private joke on the subject.

"Sure," she answered. "As long as we get the coffee _first_."

Elsa laughed – light and easy. "Deal."

* * *

Coffee turned into lunch. They found a small cluster of wooden picnic tables on the west end of the Union Building and after promptly making their camp there, began the task of Dr. Settler's ominous project. It wasn't a research prompt, or even a monotonous term paper – but rather an in depth exploration into the partner's racial history. Their families' past, their culture, religion…the list was extensive – and made for fascinating conversation. Especially over warm chowder and soft wheat bread. Vega proved as engaging as her smile and under the sky that spattered periodically with flickers of sunlight Elsa found herself talking more than she had to anyone save Anna in the past three months.

"Norway on both sides," she said, answering a question about her family's genealogy. "In a southern town called Arendal. My parents were born and raised there, right off the Pollen inner harbor, before immigrating to the United States back in the – _eighties?_ I believe that's right…I've only been there twice, but we were planning on a big family trip back at Christmas this year…before…well before _their accident._"

Elsa dropped her eyes slightly, shuffling to move her troublesome bangs away from her face. Her stomach and chest tipped in an unsteady sea of emotions and for some unusual reason, her fingers grew chilled. Stilling as best she could, forcing every swell of sentiment down and smothered, she glanced back up. The last thing she wanted was to burst out in tears in front of her classmate, but Vega's vivid eyes were soft and kind. Elsa took another deep breath of the air, vaguely wondering at when it had dropped still colder.

"What about you?" she pushed out through a slight wavering in her voice. "Where is your family from?"

"Well my father is from South Korea," Vega replied, twirling her pen between her hands. Elsa immediately felt a flush of gratitude that Vega had not pursued the subject of her parents any further. She couldn't talk about it anymore. Not _yet. _"His entire family still lives in Seoul, but he met my mother at the University of California back when they were in college. Afterwards he decided he loved her and the bay area too much to go back. She's American, and I'm pretty sure her lineage is English…though I will check with her extensively before the next class."

The ringing of her phone suddenly broke through the conversation, its tinkling bells resounding through the cold air. Glancing quickly Elsa smiled widely when her sister's name came shining onto the luminous screen. Clasping the humming device tight within her fingers, she turned back to Vega who was perusing through Dr. Settler's research outline, her brow slightly furrowed.

"My younger sister," she clarified. "It's her first day at the Sitka High School. Do you mind if -?"

"Oh, no! Not at all. I need more coffee anyways…"

Elsa threw her an appreciative smile, one that Vega returned as she rose from the bench and moved back towards the Union Building.

"Tell her I wish her good luck," she whispered and Elsa gave a small laugh, nodding her head in acknowledgment.

"Hello? Anna?"

"_Elsa? _Oh Elsa," Anna's voice cried over the speaker. There was a tone in her younger sister's breathless voice that caused Elsa to frown, moving away from where she had been sitting, hoping for a little more quiet and clarity. The common area had filled quite exponentially since she and Vega had first arrived.

"Anna? What's wrong? Are you alright?"

Elsa blinked in surprise as a round of uncontrolled giggles rumbled through the phone.

"Oh my gosh, I'm better than okay – Elsa, I _met someone! _And he's just so amazing…!"

"Wait? _What?_" Elsa stammered back. Her world suddenly felt heavy and dizzy, nothing her sister said seeming to make sense. She shot a piercing glare at the pile of shouting boys on the wide space of lawn next to her, their calls and boisterous makeshift football game making Anna's rapt storytelling hard to hear.

"…in my chemistry class and, oh we just knew right away! It was _meant to be!"_

"What was meant to be? Anna I don't understand," Elsa asked, frustratingly plugging her opposite ear as a rowdy bout of cheers rumbled up, a slender light-headed boy having just scored a touchdown; or some other absurd play. "I'm confused…"

"His name is Hans Osmond and he's so _gorgeous! _We are just so alike and when he asked of course I said _yes…!"_

"Anna, you said yes to _what?" _Elsa exclaimed anxious and exasperated. Her frustrating fingers felt like ice and there seemed to be a turbulent storm brewing in the pit of her stomach. And when had it started _snowing? _Glancing upwards, Elsa blinked as large flakes, white and wide, drifted into her eyes and stuck to her lashes.

"To being _his girlfriend _of course!" Anna laughed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And prom – he's a senior so it's a big night, I'll need a new dress…Seriously Elsa, this guy could be _the one! _I think I'm in love with him…"

"Anna!" Elsa shouted trying to break into her younger sister's lovesick hysterics. She could feel herself shaking, the utter confusion of all of this threatening to overtake her. What could her sister possibly be thinking? This inward storm pushed against her on all sides and she struggled to keep her head afloat. She was supposed to protect her – to help and guide her. But this?

"Anna, you can't – you can't just start dating someone you only met today! Think about it -!"

"You can if it's true love," came the snapping reply.

"_True love?_" Elsa stammered incredulously. Everything about her seemed suddenly muffled, as if was coming to her covered in a thick layer of fog. The group of boys was shouting again, this time enamored with the fluttering sleet around them. Elsa ran the fingers of her empty hand through her hair. She just couldn't focus – a cry was sticking to her throat and her eyes welled with tears. How could her sister be so _irresponsible?_

"Anna, what do you know about true love?" She wondered, hurried and quiet into the phone.

"More than you," Anna countered back angrily. "If you would open yourself up to somebody _once in your life…_"

Elsa chocked on the hurt that suddenly wracked her body. She and Anna rarely fought – especially since the death of their parents. They only had each other, trying to find some sort of anchor in the unbroken wave of shock and grief. They had strengthened, supported and relied on one another. And _now? _She didn't know anymore. The tears that had only moments before been kept at bay, spilled over – running down her iced cheeks, blurring her vision. The snow around her fell harder and Elsa almost cursed aloud for the cold burning that continued to assault her fingers and hands.

"Anna, I don't think that's _fair…"_

There was the sound of mumbled voices, one sounding distinctly _masculine..._a round of chorused chuckles and then the distressed sigh of her sister once more.

"Look Elsa, I'm sorry but I have to go…my Literature teacher is about to walk in."

"Yeah, of course," Elsa mumbled, halfhearted and monotone back into her phone. "We can talk tonight."

There was no reply, only the insistent dull buzzing of a disconnected line. Elsa slowly dropped the hand that held her phone, a wide and blank stare on her face. She suddenly covered her mouth, stifling a sob that threatened to burst from her chest. Why should this bother her so much? Anna was a teenager after all – weren't they prone to idiotic bouts of recklessness? Or the senseless belief in _love at first sight?_ The foolishness of it, the thoughtless things she had said…Anna had just been upset, of course. Their parent's death was still so very raw, their move here still so different and not…_home. _That had to be it. There was no other reason for Anna's irrational behavior.

Elsa tried to pull herself together, to contain and conceal – but it wasn't any use. Amidst the snowstorm of her own emotions she was very near to breaking. Right in the center of the courtyard.

A sudden splatter suddenly jolted Elsa out of her turbulence. A loud and resounding smack, square on the right side of her shoulder, sent a spray of ice and snow all across her arm, flecks showering against her cheek.

She blinked a few times, still in a state of astonishment, before looking down to her feet. There, sitting so innocently on the pavement, was the rest of the snowball that had been so perfectly launched at her from across the grass. Turning with wide eyes and raised eyebrows Elsa saw a young man, the same one that had made that ridiculously loud play earlier, jogging towards her with a wide smile on his face.

"Oh I'm sorry! I'm really sorry, I only wanted…"

"Did you just hit me with that?" Elsa hissed in wonderment, pointing down to the offending weapon still right beside her. At least the boy had the decency to drop his head, a sheepish look crossing his face. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah, I did," he answered. "But I had a good reason, I swear!"

Elsa scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. "And what could that possibly be?"

"Well," he said looking down at her with the gentlest smile she had ever seen. "I just didn't want you to be sad anymore."

Elsa stopped. She stared back at this young man incredulously. His eyes met hers and the grin on his face widened. She felt the bottom of her stomach drop out, a wave of queasiness rising up to take its place and the coupling of a hot blush filling her cheeks. For a few long seconds she didn't answer, but at last shaking herself she let loose a small huff – trying to regain some sort of balance over the pounding in her chest.

"Then I suppose I should thank you," she said with a frown, but blinked when he threw back his head laughing instead.

"I'd settle for just your name," he chuckled, shifting his feet and smiling again. There was something strange pulsing inside her, something that cried for her to turn and flee from this man…but she didn't. There was something else too. A strange feeling of commonality. Within this whirl of snow and iced clouds – maybe she really should take Anna's advice.

"It's Elsa."

He shook her hand and with a sudden start Elsa realized that his fingers were just as cold as hers.

"Mine's Jack."

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_A few clarifications on this chapter, Vega's surname, Myeong is Korean for 'bright or clear,' while Osmond is the last name of one of the supervising animators for Frozen, Hans in particular. I hope you guys like this chapter, I'm having waaaayyy too much fun writing the buildup for all these lovely characters meeting, but I just couldn't help myself ;)_

_Thank you so much for all the reviews and follows. They keep me alive. It would be oh-so-lovely if you would send me more! I might just write some Elsa/Jack scenes as a nice little thank you…_

_- Aulani_


	5. Searchings

There was a slow, burning heat growing inside the heart of Pitch Black. It had been fueling him – these past few hundred years or so, striving and driving his wicked desires further. Further than he ever thought possible. It made him smile – a snake like grin that held every dark thought and plan within the flashes of his teeth. He was so close now…so close to achieving his goal, he could almost _taste it. _Pitch licked his lips, the very idea making his mouth water. It was _delicious._

He was followed by a great swarm of restless shadows, all glittering like shards of crushed glass and staring with their bulbous yellow eyes. Their shapeless mass screeched and hissed to him, rolling _something _about deep in their center; a flash of human flesh or the blink of a terrified gaze.

"Patience pets," Pitch cooed to them as he would a small child. "We are almost home – and then you shall have your fun."

They rumbled and screamed in reply, their demented excitement reflected in the furry of their movements. He turned away and continued down the colossal and towering cavern that delved down, deep into the dark places of the world, to the depths of Blackfell.

Pitch Black's home was a crumbling fortress, carved from the rock eons ago – when the world was still young and his ambitions a little less twisted. Its stone hallways were lit by the ghost lights of pale torch posts, great iron things trapping the dim orbs within spiked fingers, as if given the chance even the light would escape his realm of grim and shade.

Here the shadows were deep, jagged and unescapable for they filled every corner, every crevice and covered every rock. Stalactites fell from the ceiling, colossal and numerous making Blackfell appear as a great yawning mouth, masses of shaver teeth piercing out in crawling gloom. The castle itself hung from the ceiling like some monumental bat, titled and disorientating. Here Pitch lived, simmered and thrived, with his creatures of Blackfell, the Faste. They were bred for a singular purpose; the spread of darkness in the world of men and their cries rose up at his exalted return. The sounds echoed off the cavern walls making their number seem infinite and limitless. A never ending chorus of nightmares for their patron god.

Pitch waved to them breezily in recognition, the Cheshire grin returning to his face. He skimmed over the stone floor, creeping up the steps of Blackfell, his abyss deep cloak spreading out behind him like an ocean. His shadows behind him rustled once more and when at last he had settled into the main hall of his tower, Pitch turned to them.

"Very well," he smoldered, his eyes burning like pricks in the dark. "Release the girl – I would speak with her for a while."

The shades jeered in response, their displeasure obvious but relented – slinking into the floor and draining away, slick and glutinous like oil. They trailed up the walls of his keep, waiting and watching in the dark curves of the ceiling as the terrified body of Samantha Harper came shaking into view. She crawled up, pulling her trembling legs and knees close to her chest and her eyes were wild and wide, horrified she turned her head in every direction a choking scream of fear releasing from her mouth when her gaze finally settled on Pitch, forming out of the shadows.

"Ah child we meet again. You're fear is rampant and that is a good thing – but for now I only want to talk."

"Where – where am I?" Samantha shuddered, streaks of tears falling down her cheeks leaving washed tracks in the smeared dirt that covered them. "Where's – where is Jeremy?"

"Oh the boy. Was that his name?" Pitch leered in the dark, his eyes blazing out, shining like lost lanterns among the gloom. "You shouldn't concern yourself with him for he is not in the world of the _living_ anymore. Let us just say he was _consumed._"

Another rouse of hungry roars crashed down the tower walls. Samantha screamed and clasped her hands over her ears, tightening her body around herself. She sobbed again, her voice cracking under the strain of her horror. The god of darkness took a few steps forward, peering down at her through a slanted and calculated gaze.

"But you still are alive – for now," he continued clasping his long fingers behind his back. "Merely to see if you are perhaps…what I have been _looking for_."

"I don't – I don't understand…"

"No of course you don't," Pitch spat back, turning his back on Samantha. "It matters not. Moirai will know. Send for her."

Samantha choked down a cry as a few spindly shades slunk past, turning and watching her with their flickering eyes. For a long moment the only sounds that broke through the heavy silence were the gnashing and hissing of the Faste in both the keep's ceiling and those that prowled outside. Samantha turned her head all around, searching and praying for escape – but all she saw was the dark carved stone of Blackfell, the deep shadows of the Halls of the Dead and the ghost lights casting everything in sick illumination. Pitch was speaking low to one of his horrid minions when her trembling voice broke through the hush.

"Please," she whispered and he turned slowly to look at her. "_Please – _I'm sorry! Whatever it is, whatever I did I'm sorry! I won't go in the Wychwood again…I swear…"

"My lord, Moirai is here," simpered the grating voice of a Faste.

Samantha turned, the plea stopping in her mouth, as a newcomer had entered the Keep's circular hall. A woman, so emaciated and skeletal that the sharp bones of her shoulders and clavicle could be plainly seen under skin that was pale and paper thin. Her dark fly away hair and sunken cheekbones outlined white, unbroken eyes and she wore a long black dress that hung loosely off her fragile frame. Pitch swayed forward and gave a small nod in recognition as the one called Moirai bowed her head low to the ground. The goddess of fate and prophecy always paid tribute to the lord of death.

"I see you have picked up a few _souvenirs_."

Pitch turned slowly, the sound of his cloak scraping across the stone like the hissing of a snake. Samantha shuddered at the sound – and at the gaunt woman's voice. It was harsh and shrieking.

"Indeed," Pitch began. "I want to know if she is _one. _Another S_emideus._"

Samantha Harper stared at them in confusion, eyes moving back and forth so quickly her vision began to blur. Her head hurt and her legs ached, knees stained red. And _Jeremy_. It couldn't be true. Jeremy couldn't be…

"What makes you think she is one," asked Moirai glancing over Samantha with raised brows.

"She fits the description," Pitch answered with a sneer. "White blond hair, pale skin, blue eyes."

"Many mortals fit that description and we aren't just looking for that singular _Semideus_ you know," quipped Moirai, but she moved towards Samantha all the same. The young woman gave a strangled cry and tried to crawl away, but there was a shifting just above her head…a bulbous, falling mass of liquid darkness and a half dozen of those creatures materialized next to her – trapping her in place, shrieking in her ears. Their craws dung into her shoulders pushing her forward, setting her on her heels and trapping her arms behind her back. Samantha's breathing became just as wild as her gaze, sweat draining against her temples, her heart aching in her chest. Moirai knelt before and lifted her bony hand before her, laying her palm flat over Samantha's chest.

"Shhh," she whispered, tender like a mother would to a small child and for a moment it stilled Samantha till a great shudder wracked her body and she opened her mouth and screamed. Her chest felt on fire, right under Moirai's fingers. Burning, pushing, pulsing, beating – her heart strained within her as if it the very thing was being pulled out.

Pitch watched with restrained anticipation. If this was one…his plans would move even _further. _The might of his shadows would continue to grow. And soon he would become unstoppable. Nothing would hold him back. Not the other deities. Not his brothers. Not even that insufferable Jack Frost.

Moirai was pulling her hand away from over Samantha's fluttering heart and as the whole light around them glowed a deep and streaked crimson, a pulsing round sphere appeared, pulled away from the young girl to rest within the cradle of Moirai's palm. The Faste all yelped and shrieked in response, jumping about in the keep with bobbing eyes as the lifeless body of Samantha Harper crumpled to the floor.

The light sitting so perfectly in Moirai's hands was round and glittering like a star. It's facets of yellow color bounded against the walls, filling the small space with splashes of gold and Pitch's shadows scuttled away from its luminosity, splayed upon the stone floor. Pitch Black, however, remained where he was. Waiting in the shadows, for Moirai to tell him what kind of soul that stupid little child had possessed.

"Well?" He snapped after the quiet stretched too long for his patience. "Is she one or not?"

"She is not."

Pitch cursed and fumed. He shouted and lashed against the Faste surrounding him. They cowered even further against the dark corners, watching as their deity continue to roar in anger.

"It is not a total waste my lord," said Moirai then, watching as Pitch continued to rage. "This soul may not be a Semideus, but it is strong. Add it to your collection and you will continue to strengthen in power."

"I don't want another _human soul_," he spat in reply. "I want the powers of the Semideus! You said there were many about the mortal plane and yet I have not acquired a single one! My shadows grow hungry…_I grow hungry _for a world filled with fear. Is there nothing more you can tell me? Nothing at all about where I might find _one?"_

"Nothing more than I have already told you Dark One," Moirai answered. "Each time I look into the Fates, your younger brother ruins my visions. His illustrious light clouds everything! Him and the other two."

"_Jack Frost_," Pitch sneered through his teeth. "But what comes together better than _cold and dark? _Perhaps he can still be turned. I have high hopes for our god of winter. But who is the other you see?"

"There are many that will stand with your brother," Moirai spoke, her empty eyes narrowing. "But the other I see – Vega."

Pitch stilled. His shadows halted for just a moment and the furrow on his dark brow became deeper. "Oh Vega…" He rumbled deep in his throat. "I will twist her too."

"She will not come to you my lord," Moirai snapped suddenly, hating the way Pitch caressed over Vega's name – spoken so low and with blazon hunger. "She and your brother are-"

"_Don't tell me what they are_," he screamed and in an instant emerged right before her. His piercing eyes flared within the shadows of his face and Moirai trembled, the crawling shades growing and hissing around her. "I will still have her in the end. All the same."

Pitch reached forward and took the shining soul of Samantha Harper tightly between his fingers. For a moment he watched as it fluttered there, simple and young, before at last a wide sneer spread across his face.

"Perhaps you are right Moirai," he whispered. "I may have use for pathetic souls such as these. They will spread my fear – my shadows across this world, till we have nothing left but darkness. Glorious nightmaric darkness. Then everything will be mine. Everything I crave - everything I _deserve _will at last be mine."

He turned his back on Moirai and with one flick of his fingers dropped the soul into the waiting claws of the Faste near him. It shrieked in delight and clutching it forcefully against the blackness of its chest, disappeared into the shadows, down deep – further into the ruins of the Blackfell. The darkness closed in around the keep and Pitch gave a small laugh, his wicked smile flashing in the gloom.

"Now…find me that girl so that I may consume _her_ - and become _unstoppable_."

* * *

His first thought was that she was beautiful. Beautiful and cold – with long white blond hair, pale skin and bright eyes, blue as the ocean in winter. Elegant and willowy, she stood rigid and frozen in the fluttering snow around her. Snow that _he didn't make._

Jack Frost had meant to pass right over Sitka – after all he was due for important things much farther north; things such as blizzards and iced lakes and snowball fights, but something had caught his attention. The clouds had rumbled above him, turning steely grey – cold and dark and the air had suddenly turned, smelling of frost, snow and the bitterness of winter. Jack raised his head, wondering and confused by all of it, because this was not his doing. Nor had he any knowledge of a storm brewing above the picturesque hamlet of Sitka. Strange enough, it wasn't even over the whole town – merely the jumbled group of buildings in the east, right against the lapping waves of the harbor. Curious, he dropped down into the earthly plane, unseen at first – he grimaced at the kind of panic he would create if a mortal saw him falling from the sky. Unfortunately, he knew _that _from experience. There had been a few incidences…mostly back in the medieval era…he remembered one where the entire village of Henny, England was in an up roared panic because they believed the sky was falling. It had taken much convincing by Jack to prove it otherwise.

Safely settled on the ground and careful to disguise his clothing to match those he saw bundled and gathered around this quaint courtyard, Jack Frost stepped out – emerging with a smile and a football promptly landing solid in his outstretched hands. A round of chorused shouts exploded from the other end of the large green he was standing on and Jack looked up to see a group of brash and vociferous boys running up in greeting.

"Nice catch bro," shouted one slapping him across the shoulder. "Touchdown for us!"

"No way dude! He wasn't even _playing!_"

"I am now," grinned Jack lightly tossing the ball back amid another round of boisterous hollers, causing a few heads to turn in their direction – some rather glaringly at the bout of ostentatious commotion. But Jack Frost was never one to turn down a football game – or really, a game of any kind. They spread out across the field, crouched in waiting positions until…

"Now it's _snowing! _Awesome!"

Jack's body went rigid, still and frozen as the air around him. Blinking he glanced up as a rain of large, white delicate snowflakes tumbled down from the sky. They fluttered gently, catching in his hair and lashes – perfect and minute. His new transient teammates all shouted again in excitement making Jack suspicious if they even possessed a softer volume of control, but every face in the courtyard turned upwards in curious wonder; fingers outstretched, faces broken out in wide toothy smiles at the unexpected turn of weather. All save _one._

He had never seen anyone like her. In his eons of wandering across the mortal plane, the limitless faces and lives he had witnessed and watched – Jack Frost couldn't take his eyes away from her.

She was so beautiful…and yet…his second thought was that she was also so _sad. _She was speaking into a – what did humans call those things…_cell phone _– with a hand splayed over her chest, the shining of her eyes that signaled a wash of unshed tears. He saw her mumble gently into the phone, memorized by the curve and shape of her mouth, and the move of her long hair as she wove her fingers through its strands in distraction. Her eyebrows creased and Jack wondered what could possibly be tormenting her – the distress apparent and overwhelming. The snow seemed to fall a little harder around them.

"Dude, you checking out that girl?" asked a voice and Jack turned briefly to see three of those rowdy humans stepping up behind him, brushing flecks of ice off the edges of their clothes.

"Oh she's hot," interjected another. "Did you see that Asian chick she was sitting with a moment ago? Ah man – that girl was fucking fine as well…"

"That was the new Centre forward for the girls' soccer team. I saw her talking to the coach this morning."

"This girl looks like she would be wild…you know what they say about the quiet ones…"

They chortled and laughed, turning back to their game edging one another with winks and elbows. Sometimes mortals could be so _crass._ Jack rolled his eyes slightly, before settling them back on _her. _She had dropped the phone, her hand clasped limply around its slick corners while the other had lifted up to splay around her mouth. He could see her shoulders shaking, the snow rolling about her and her hair splaying across her shoulders. She was crying.

The sadness of her – he couldn't take it. Jack's heart strained against his chest, pulling and aching at her unbounded pain. And not just here, but her grief that seemed to go much deeper. All the way into the etchings of her being. The breaking. The sorrowing pull towards her. The loneliness. He wanted to turn the corners of her mouth into something different. He wanted to break the sorrow that had iced over her. He wanted to fix her sadness.

Without another thought Jack Frost brought his hands before his mouth and, careful not to be seen, breathed out – the frost accumulating in a perfect spherical shape, round and soft in his palms. He hurled the snowball perfectly into the air, watching as it tumbled in a graceful arch before landing with a resound smack upon its target. Splattering across the shoulder of the young woman in the courtyard.

She immediately went stiff, her back as straight as a board and Jack watched as her lashes fluttered across the span of her cheeks multiple times. He followed the movement with his eyes – up and down, up and down – before her head turned to look at his creation sprayed on the pavement. She turned just as he jogged up behind her and with relief Jack saw that her face was wiped of grief, the tears stilled in the corners of her wide and shocked eyes. His smile grew.

"Oh I'm sorry," he said halting to stand before her. "I'm really sorry, I only wanted…"

"Did you just hit me with that?" She asked incredulously with a hiss through her teeth. Jack dropped his head and pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. While all he had wanted was to break the heavy push of melancholy that had threatened to overwhelm her, he hadn't counted to earning her ire either. Jack was never one for well thought out plans.

"Yeah I did, "he replied. "But I had a good reason, I swear!"

He saw her fold her arms, glaring at him in annoyance. "And what could that possibly be?"

Jack smiled down at her, loving how her eyes swirled with depth and color as he did. "Well, I just didn't want you to be sad anymore."

Whatever she had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. She blinked again when she met his gaze Jack saw a blush span about her cheeks. He noticed a dusting of freckles, light and almost unseen splayed there across her face – unnoticeable until that fair rosy color flushed her countenance. It made him grin wider.

"Then I suppose I should thank you," she said curtly and Jack couldn't help but laugh.

"I'd settle for just your name."

She seemed at war within herself. Jack waited, shifting on his feet slightly wondering about all of this. There was something here. Some pull within him that pulsed right back at her and when at last she spoke he could feel the _shift around them._ The snow began to dwindle and the air falling back. It smelled less of a winter's chill and more of the rise of autumn. Of leaves and pine.

"It's Elsa."

Jack wrapped took her hand within his own and inwardly waved at how her fingers felt against his own. Cold and warm all tumbled together.

"Mine's Jack," he answered.

"So Jack," Elsa continued, raising an eyebrow at him appraisingly. "Do you make it a habit of launching snowballs at unsuspecting victims?"

Jack shrugged lightly and continued to grin downwards at her. "Who doesn't like a good snow fight? You're welcome to throw one back at me if you want. Though I must warn you - I'm awfully good."

She snorted and brushed a thread of her light hair behind her ear. "I don't doubt it. That was quite a throw. Worthy of _Jack Frost_ himself."

Jack blinked and felt his face go slack. Wavering slightly, he quickly pulled himself together. "Who?" He queered with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh you know, the Norse mythological spirit of winter," she said with a confused glance passing over her face. "Who hasn't heard of Jack Frost?"

Jack inwardly scoffed at the small title. _Spirit_. Child's play.

"I guess I haven't," he replied. "But regardless I think you're out of luck. The snow has stopped."

Elsa frowned and shifted on her feet, briefly turning her gaze upwards to the sky. The clouds were now rolling with sun breaks, their gentle haze falling down on them below. "Seems so. Odd though, how quickly it came and went."

"Weather is funny like that."

"Especially here," she continued meeting his eyes again. "I swear its icing one minute and clear the next."

"Let me guess…you prefer the latter?"

Mesmerized, he watched as she shook her head. "Oh no, I definitely like the cold. _The frostier the better_."

Jack couldn't help but raise his eyebrows, a smile to rival the Cheshire cat spreading across his face. "Really?" He said and watched as that blush flushed across her face again. "Well then you and I have something in common."

Elsa smiled, one that was lighter and genuine. There was still something there – a solid foundation of hurt reflected back in her gaze, but it was smaller – lesser and calm. His heart pulsed in his chest, rising up from his stomach to lodge in his throat when he spoke again.

"Elsa, what do you think about…?"

But Jack stopped at once. There was movement from a ways over Elsa's shoulder and he became hard and static as ice when he saw who was raising her head to meet his gaze. Her soft foot falls made hardly a sound against the snow dusted pavement, but he could _feel _those shockingly brilliant eyes of hers on him at once. She was unmistakable.

"Vega," Elsa exclaimed, her greeting joyful and overlaid of a previous meeting. Jack Frost narrowed his eyes slightly at the young woman who joined them. They had met before? His curiosity threatened to spill out over his mouth – wondering about the _strangeness _of all of this.

"Sorry about that," Vega replied with a smile. "The line for coffee was atrocious! Who's this?"

"Ah, this is someone who so rudely likes to hurdle snowballs at passersby's in the courtyard."

"Sounds appropriate," Jack heard Vega mumble under her breath.

"Otherwise known as Jack."

Wondering at what game she was playing at, Jack dropped his head in a slight greeting.

"Nice to meet you," he said. He watched as Vega gave him a returning smile, one that concealed all her thoughts – and every answer that he was searching for.

"Vega. Likewise."

* * *

_Authors Note:_

_Whoa, long one. Longest one yet – but I do hope you like it!_

_The name Moirai is actually the term used by the Ancient Greeks to represent the three Fates. As the goddess of fate and prophecy I needed a name that signified a parallel with the Fates in mythology. I know I'm throwing a lot of original characters in this story, but it's really to try and enhance this world that I've created. I hope you guys like it, I'm trying to make it detailed and well-structured, just like the mythologies themselves. And hey! I made up a word: Nightmaric. Yep, Pitch does that. He's quite the linguistic. Apparently..._

_Semideus, as I'm sure you can deduce, is a Latin term for 'half-god.' What that means with regards to this story…I'm not telling you! It's a secret…_

_Henny, England is a town I made up and is a reference to Henny Penny – more commonly known as Chicken Little. See? You learn stuff when you read my stories. It's useless stuff, but still something! Lol…_

_Also, college kids are crass. I should know, being one myself…naughty kiddos!_

_And now…finally to answer some reviewer questions :) You have been so patient, I must reward you! Ha-ha! It is only fair after all…_

_IceFire Dragon Alchemist73 – You WOULD think a god would be much too busy, but while the deities in this story are not omnipresent, they are able to handle multiple tasks at one time. Also, as shown here with Pitch and his Faste (aka his creepy black shadows), the extremely important (aka busy) deities have underlings who perform duties for them as well. Besides, we all know Jack would never be one to just work all the time. Nope – the boy is a total slacker! ;)_

_To the Guest post – Yes mortals can see gods here. I decided to completely abandon that idea from Rise of the Guardians where humans couldn't see Jack unless they believed in him – blah, blah, blah. It just didn't seem to fit with this particular story. As to what Jack is doing at the university…well he wants to flirt with a pretty girl of course! Ha-ha! Also, to your question if Elsa has powers/is aware of them…you'll just have to wait and find out!_

_Thank you all for the favorites and reviews – they are my new drug of choice. So __**feed my addiction**__!_

_Aulani_


	6. Fairy Tales

"Did you just _eat that?_"

Kristoff turned his head slightly, brushing hair away from his eyes to glance at the young woman sitting just across from him. Her nose and eyebrows were scrunched up in obvious repugnance, mouth slightly open and she was staring at him incredulity as if she had never seen anyone quite like him before.

"Yeah," he replied with a sloppy smirk, leaning back to rest his chin against the open palm of his large hand. "What about it?"

"Well I just…I can't," he watched as she fumbled for words, but the look of utmost scandal remained on her face. "I mean – that's just…that's _disgusting!"_

Kristoff gave a lazy half-shouldered shrug. "All men do it."

He heard her scoff low in her throat, glaring at him with annoyance. "_Eww! _No they don't," she replied quite outraged. "At least _Hans _doesn't…"

Here Kristoff finally drew his own brows together, eyes narrowing slightly. He sat up against the desk, surveying his allocated study hall partner over the hush of the library and the spread of book she had laid before her on the round table. Slender, high cheekbones and round sea-green eyes sat inside a freckled oval face, while strawberry blond hair lay in loose woven braids down her shoulders, some easy curling stands already escaping the clasp of her plaits. He had known she was new – there were never enough strangers in Sitka High School that everyone wasn't aware of their arrival the moment they settled into town, but he hadn't realized that Hans Osmond's new girlfriend was this amateur little classmate before him.

"So who goes out with someone they just _met, that day?_"

His question took her completely off guard. Her face went into a blank daze and he watched as she stared at him for another moment. A small flush began creeping slowly onto the dusting of her cheeks, highlighting the freckles splayed there and her eyes flashed in sudden provoked irritation.

"_What?_" She almost hissed at him.

"I mean, didn't your parents ever warn you about strangers?"

He watched as she narrowed her gaze, darting up and down before very steadily inching further away – further to the opposite end of the table. "Yes they did. But Hans is not a stranger."

Now it was Kristoff's turn to scoff, save his was far less delicate and was coupled with a very obvious roll of the eyes. "Oh yeah, what's his favorite food?"

Her gaze dropped for just a moment before returning to meet his eyes that if he hadn't been watching her flush so intently, that he would have missed it. "Sandwiches."

"Best friend's name?"

"Probably Jonathan…"

"Eye color?"

"_Gorgeous…"_

"That's not technically a color," he smirked at her, settling back against his chair, lazily crossing his arms behind his head. Kristoff watched as a sundry of emotions played out across her face and struggled to hold back a small chuckle. He decided he _liked _teasing her. He liked how bright her eyes were, or how the blush across her cheeks looked against her skin - and even the turn of her bowed mouth.

"Besides," he continued. "What if you don't like the way he _picks his nose and eats it…"_

"You mean like what you just did? Look, it doesn't matter what _you think – _or what anyone thinks for that matter. It's true love -"

Kristoff turned his eyes up to the ceiling, shaking his head slightly at her. "You're one of those girls huh? Look, I've known Hans for years – we've played on the same hockey team since elementary school and he's real good about putting up a nice façade. It doesn't sound like true love…"

"Oh _I'm sorry_," she snapped in a whisper. "I didn't realize I had been partnered with some sort of love expert."

"Hey, I'm only trying to help…"

"Well don't," she barked in a huff. "I know who _he is _and I know _what I'm doing._ Between you and my sister – I'm tired of getting some redundant lecture! Now drop it and just review your history notes. You're distracting me! And _get your feet down! _Seriously, were you raised in a barn?"

"Not quite," he smiled and laughed loudly in reply, but pulled out his homework all the same.

* * *

Elsa was practical. Grounded and responsible. She had never subscribed to childish fairy tales in her youth…never believing in figures such as the Tooth Fairy or the Easter Bunny. She had always preferred to approach the world reasonably. Calm and levelheaded. She remembered one such occasion when, at six years old and over Christmas Dinner no less, she explained the absurdity of Santa Claus's existence to her family and how unrealistic it was to have one man visit all the children of the world on one night of the year. Not to mention living up in the North Pole where temperatures made living comfortably quite - _difficult_. Anna had been crushed. After being ushered away for reassurance and comfort from their father, Olivia Snow had quietly explained to her eldest child that there were just some things in this world that you _knew. _Deep in the basis of your soul – _your very being_. And while they may not take physical form, such as an old man bearing presents, they were still very real all the same. Things like faith, hope, goodwill and charity. Things like _love._

But Elsa still remained reserved and formal, she wasn't prone to spontaneous acts of fancy, bouts of immaturity - nor did she subscribe to the incredibly _foolish _notion of romantic attraction. Growing up she and Anna would watch countless movies, all with very distinct and recycled themes: of the girl meeting some handsome prince, falling in love at first glance and then just a few generic conflict arches later, they would be married. The entire courtship spanning the length of twenty minutes. And that was putting it generously. Elsa had always mentioned the ludicrous of these fairy tales – serenely explaining to bright eyed Anna that real life – real life doesn't work that way. Anna would call her a cold stick-in-the-mud and Elsa had always retorted that she preferred the term _sensible._

So she didn't understand nor had any logical explanation, when Jack turned his easy smile on her once more; why her face suddenly felt so warm, or why she felt her chest might break from her heart beating so uncomfortably fast…or why she had _no idea_ with what to do with her hands. How did she normally stand? Should she place them to the side? Cross them? Clasp them? _Ugh! _It was _infuriating!_

Flustered and embarrassed, Elsa tried to smile back but all that she could manage was a weak grin coupled with a resounding blush that would have made Anna proud. She turned, in slight unknown panic, glancing at Vega – hoping for some distraction from the way she could feel her pulse wedged against her throat…or the way Jack's hair seemed to fall perfectly around the structure of his well-defined brows and startling eyes. _Dear lord…_she almost pleaded out loud, willing herself to stop – but how do you stop something when you have no idea what it _might be? _Maddening and preposterous…

Vega's gaze was turning smoothly back and forth between hers and Jack's, a very small tug on the corner of her mouth. Elsa had actually enjoyed Vega's new friendship immensely – but she found herself increasing irritated by that slender smile that spread across her lovely face. It was as if she knew – knew how very awkward and frustrated Elsa had become, simply by being a flesh target for this boy's snowfall impulses. Gritting her teeth, shook out a low breath…refusing to become a walking, sputtering cliché.

"So you're a student here I'm assuming?"

Jack's deep rumble broke Elsa's thoughts like a battering ram. Blinking once, she glanced up to meet his eyes once more, wishing herself to just…just…_something. _To calm down, or answer…or perhaps run. Run away from the coiled foreign feelings growing inside her chest.

"You would assume so," She replied forcing herself past the cracking in her throat. "Since that's what most people are doing on a college campus."

He smiled wider at her, the merriment reflected back – blazon across his eyes.

"Yes, that is what you would assume…" He trailed off faintly, before turning to look at Vega.

"And you? I'm _assuming _you're a student here as well?"

"Of course," Vega replied raising her eyebrows marginally. "Their Physical cosmology department is nationally recognized with research from Professor J. Shull on astronomy and astrophysics. The Northern sky is perfect for astrophotography and the planetrial studies."

"Astronomy?" Jack asked giving his head a faint tilt. Elsa didn't understand the look he turned on Vega. It was amusement, wondered and secretive. "_That's_ your major?"

She nodded, pushing off the threads of her long dark ponytail when it fell over her shoulder, pushed by the light autumn air. "Yes," Vega gave her eyes a slight narrow. "And what's yours…_Jack? _Right?"

"Undecided," he retorted without missing a beat. Elsa could swear she heard Vega snort in reply, but the young woman turned her gaze away, quietly shaking her head – her hair moving back and forth like a pendulum.

"What about you?"

He was looking at her again and Elsa shifted on her feet trying not to notice how his lashes fanned out across his cheeks when he blinked, or the brightness of them. They were translucent and silver white – just like the mess of tousled hair on his head, and Elsa wondered how a dusting of eye lashes could resemble the falling of snow the way his did, sprayed long and curved against his face. Her face flushed again and she wanted to curse. A rarity for one as cool and composed as Elsa – but he had her shifted, restless and tossed about. This maelstrom of unknown sensations. _Damn…_

"What?" She mumbled back forgetting the question entirely.

"Are you studying astronomy as well?" Jack repeated and his eyes darted about to the corners of her face. "Is that how you two met?"

"Oh no," Elsa answered at last, getting some firm grip upon the wild turbulence that was absolutely _mortifying_. "I am working towards a Liberal Arts degree for the moment, but we were assigned a project together in our mutual Anthropology lecture. Actually, we were working on it until someone so rudely stalled our progress."

Elsa started in surprise when she saw the boy smile widely, leaning forward just a bit to duck his head close to hers. "Good," he chuckled, his voice low yet layered with timbres of good humor. "Working is so dull. Anytime you're needing a break from assignments and are up for a snowball fight again – I'm your guy."

That exasperating blush crept back to the hollows of Elsa's cheeks again and for a brief moment the palms of her hands went cold and bitter. It was a strange feeling, the contrasting temperatures playing out across her skin, but Elsa shrugged it away as best she could. Vega was piercing Jack with the oddest of looks, the crease between her brows deep and furrowed while her unbounded eyes tapered briefly.

However, the mention of homework brought Elsa crashing out of her reserve. With a hurried fumble into her back pocket she yanked out her cell phone, giving a slight audible panic at the realized time. Vega gave her a knowing smile.

"Class?" She queered lightly while Elsa gave a quick bob of the head, brushing her meddlesome bangs away from her face.

"Yes," she replied. "I have to go before I'm late for Mythological Literature…I have no idea where the English Department _actually is_…"

"Third building past the Student Union."

Elsa let a grateful smile play across her features. "Thank you. I'm sorry we didn't get a better head start on that project."

"That's alright," Vega waved her off with a slight brush of the hand. She gave Jack a side-long grin that was equal parts exasperation and teasing wit. "It wasn't your fault."

"Guilty," he laughed.

Elsa shook her head again, almost as if she could sweep away the sound of his voice from her ears. She had to leave – if not for the sake of punctuality to only her second class of the day… then for the sake of her own sanity.

"I'll see you in class tomorrow," she whispered to Vega softly, who gave a small nod in affirmation. Then with the most concealed breath she could muster, Elsa turned to Jack – meeting the sweep of his eyes and pushing, what she hoped, was a cavalier grin onto her mouth. She clasped her shaking fingers within each other, pressed tight against her chest.

"It was nice to meet you Jack, despite being splattered with snow in the process," she said much stronger than she felt. How could they not hear her heart banging against the hollows of her chest? She could swear it was resounding across the courtyard. "Maybe I will see you around again."

"_Count on it_."

He smiled at her, one that was brilliant and astounding. His white teeth, glittering like the snow still strewn around them, formed an expression that was both carefree and boisterous – mischievous and gentle.

_She had to get out of here._

Sincerely hoping she didn't appear as if she was _fleeing the scene, _Elsa gave them both a small nod and loose wave, before promptly turning on her heel and darting off. She clasped a sudden iced rimmed hand around her mouth, hoping to breathe slowly and _calmly…_but it was impossible. Her focus was lost amongst her tumultuous thoughts – a jumbled mash of deep voices, blue hoodies, handsome faces and smiles. Elsa tried to breathe again, clutching at her chest.

It had begun snowing once more.

* * *

Jack watched her leave – the fall of her white blond hair fluttering about shoulders that seemed tight and pulled. He watched as she moved, molding into the sea of students around them – a laughing, churning mass of mortality and all he could focus on was the dip of her head, the brush of her lashes and the curve of her face as she turned away. He watched her until she at last disappeared – broken from his sight and around the corner, lost in the gathering of evergreens that lined the edge of Southeast's campus. The dust of snow continued to fall around them and his brain felt fogged, a blur like the flakes tumbling about in his vision. He seemed both present – and eons away all at the same time.

"Jack, can you stop this please?"

Vega's voice broke his contemplation immediately. It was soft, but strong and when he turned to look at her, Jack saw that she was watching him gravely. She gave a small, but serious point towards the greying sky.

"It wasn't me," he replied with a sudden raise of the eyebrows. The statement didn't seem as revalational _to her_ as it was to him.

"I know."

Jack blinked and a thousand questions flashed over his face. He turned towards her completely, his gaze searching over hers but Vega was guarded. Her vivid eyes seemed arcane and limitless, but she crossed her arms over her chest watching him narrowly. She would plainly give him no answer, until he did as she asked. With a small tightening of his palms, a simple brush of the hand – as any mortal would see him as just pushing the hair away from his neck, but Jack Frost was powerful and efficient; and within one breath, one flick of the fingers the snow stilled. He stifled a grin as those around him looked up in half disappointment and half bewilderment. He heard the growing mutters, including one that sounded suspiciously like, "I swear the weather here is _so weird…"_

"Aw, see what you made me do?" He teased suddenly, pushing his hands back into the front pockets of his jeans. "It would have been nice to continue with the snow day. Perhaps they would have even canceled school."

"It's Alaska Jack," she replied, still resigned to her cautious and fortified air. "They wouldn't cancel school for the next ice age."

"True," he smirked turning his face up towards the sky. "That's why I like it here."

"Why _are you_ here Jack?"

Now they were getting to the heart of the matter and Jack whipped back to glower at Vega. Something was…_amiss _here. Things were not as it should be and he was _determined _to jab, urge and prod until he discovered the truth. Especially if it concerned – _her._

"I could ask you the same thing Vega," he retorted lowly. "What are you doing here, in _Sitka Alaska _of all places, studying – what – _astronomy?_ Like some mortal…it makes no sense."

"You shouldn't concern yourself with it Jack Frost," Vega replied, a heated fury under her words, eyes flashing. "This has nothing to do with you."

"_Like hell it doesn't,_" Jack countered with a start. "That was _snow Vega! _Snow! Which I didn't create, command or consent! Something is going on here and I don't give a _damn _if you think it's none of my business. Who was _that girl _Vega? Between you and Isar, your cryptic secrets are…"

"Wait a moment," Vega interrupted shifting on her feet slightly. "You spoke to Isar?"

"I did. He mentioned that you were down in the mortal plane, but I never thought – "

"What did he say?"

Jack huffed out an infuriated breath – condensing into wisps of iced flakes, spanning out before his eyes and collecting in the air around him. His gaze shifted, becoming dark and apprehensive as if even the shadows in this green courtyard would form into servants of Faste.

"He wanted to warn me," Jack whispered sharply. "About…about _Pitch. _I came into the Hall of the Gods as Isar was speaking to Ole Lukoje – Sandy obviously…"

"_Obviously_..."

"He mentioned something about Pitch interfering in his sphere – but, Isar seemed to suspect that there was more to it than that. Bunmund too…but what does that have to do with _you? _And her…Vega – _who was that?"_

Vega stared at him for a long moment, as if her very gaze could pierce through him – to reveal all his intentions, his questions and thoughts. But he had to know...he couldn't get her out of his head. The feel of her hand in his had left him breathless and stuttering. Her smooth fingers against his own, cool and delicate. Like the frost fall on a winter morning, or the dust of snow across his palms. He had to know. Turning to Vega he was about ready to cry out in frustration, fight or plead with her for _just something..._until at last she gave a low sigh, shuffling her hands to lay decidedly on her hips.

"_That _Jack," she breathed meeting his eyes and frowning, the line between her eyebrows deep and strong. "Was a _Semideus…_and the reason why I'm here."

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_I, like Elsa in this story, do not believe in the notion of 'love at first sight.' However, I do believe that certain people are drawn towards one another, that there is some sort of instinctual connection that can develop between two people that you might not have with anyone else. I also firmly believe in 'attraction at first sight.' I tried to describe a very real scenario…one where you have two people who are, very obviously attracted to one another and also feel that connection. That longing within themselves to get to know the other person. It was a lot of fun to play around with different emotions, especially Elsa's and in the end I used a lot of personal experience on how I felt when I first met my own husband. I swear I just stared at him and didn't speak for a full twenty minutes – obviously including a lot of blushing and stammering on my part. I hope I did Elsa's character justice. I really wanted her to be blinded here. Completely out of her element on how to handle such a whirlwind of new and previously unknown feelings._

_I am not planning on including very many scenes with Anna/Kristoff in this story, however I do find it humorous to interject brief scenes of their relationships. I really enjoyed their romance in the movie, especially the scene of them in the sleigh. I tried to recreate that here, with my own personal flair and fun little interjectors that really are only clever to me. For example, 'Jonathan' which Anna listed as Hans's best friend is the name of the actor who voices Kristoff. And of course they will come into play a little later on…but I wanted to warn you that their roles will never be too large. This is an Elsa and Jack fic after all…_

_I want to thank everyone so very VERY much for all the favorites, follows and reviews. I love them so incredibly much, they keep me going and writing – hugs and kisses to all of you!_

_Having said that – now I plead for more ;) Pretty please, with sugar on top?_

_- Aulani_


	7. The Plunge

Saint Nicolas still wondered at the creation of metal shaped under his rough and calloused hands – even after all these centuries of unending seasons. The blaze of fire across his forge, the steam of water tumbling high into his cavernous ceiling – the shedding of an odd and rough form for something new. Something majestic, awing and beautiful. Something fit for _a god._

At the moment a very exuberant grin spread across his face as the light from the gold work he poured over bended and clanged across his workshop – thundering out with a ring like a monstrous gong. The air smelled of wood, fire and sweat; a glorious arrangement for the deity of smiting, metalwork and flame. Maker of the marvel that was the forges of Eldervale. A wonder among the immortal plane.

Nicolas hollered and shouted; as excited as a child on Christmas morning, catching the attention of his great hulking workers – immense beasts called the _Miche._ Whose colossal shoulders, mounds of course animal hair and surprisingly detailed sharp fingers made them perfect for his workshop, his craft, and his _wonderment. _Nicolas cracked his knuckles, rolled his arms back and forth – for his latest innovation lay bare and hot, ready for the hammer and anvil. The final moments before the once shapeless piece of metal could claim greatness in the hands of its destined immortal. He could hardly wait.

A burst of fire from the forge's coals, an order for more water to simmer and set the creation, for he was close. Close to the final mold within his hearth. The flames licked at the already present burns that scattered around Saint Nicolas's arms, but made motion to pull away. It only drove him further, made him stronger. It only made his ending all the more triumphant. His bellows gave one final vent of steam and with the most animated of chuckles Nicolas pulled the shining sword from the forge, meeting it with the anvil and hammer.

He lifted it high above his head – shimmering through the molten metals, the light of the fire reflected back in the blade. The weapon was slender and delicate, with a handle iridescent with rubies the size of robin's eggs. The length of the foil was veneered with coils of falling leaves, a dusting of amber and garnet gemstones gathered down the steel like an autumn mosaic. The Miche around called out in cheers, pounding their fists into the air – boastful in its celebratory culmination. IT was always a cause for feast and revelry when such a treasure of perfection was finished. Nicolas's eyes turned upon the metallic art in his clenched fist – still alight with marvel.

"Ah, dear Saint Sinterklaas…it is _flawless."_

Nicolas turned with the widest of smiles on his round cherub cheeks; a great booming laugh unleashing from his throat, one that rumbled up from the pit of his belly.

"You! You come just in time," he bellowed with contagious joy. "Look! Look! You first to come and see. Tis done and its greatest creation yet!"

Vega moved forward to arrive in the low, warm light of the forges, the silver plates of the armor she wore turned fire red in the simmering blaze. Here, in the dwellings of Eldervale, the goddess of starlight and victory wore the most magnificent mail – a shining set of silver, ivory and pearl. Inlaid with the symbols of her exalted sphere…Nicolas always looked upon it with such pride. His own rough hands had forged every piece – inlaid every ethereal carving into its silver planes and linked each chain of her alabaster mail. Even the winged diadem that lay so perfectly in her dark hair was his creation and his alone. Nicolas had poured over its birth for decades, uncompromising in his craft – for a deity of such regal importance, he would risk no hurt to his designs. Besides, gods play favorites just as mortals – and he was loyal to her. Many a forged night had been lit by the gaze of her stars. Masses of them spinning among the heavens. Clusters of galaxic worlds that he knew nothing of, save for their vast splendor. He had thought that the beauty of her armor should match the wearer's just the same. An undimmed radiance of countenance and spirit.

Vega smiled at Nicolas, the charm of it reaching her almond shaped eyes; coming closer to behold the sword in his enormous hands.

"It is beautiful Nicolas," she said and he visibly swelled with pride. "It shall have no equal at the Autumn Cerelia festival."

"It is many thousand year old celebration," the old man said, his eyes running down the blade's full length. "Sloan is asking for centuries – this year I surprise her with gift."

"You have such a giving spirit Sinterklaas. There is no doubt she will adore you for it, though others might begin to petition for one themselves. You know how your gifts are perceived…we covet them like spoiled children on a holiday morning."

He laughed again and without so much as an uttered warning wrapped Vega up in a cinder-filled embrace. The great tattooed muscles of his arms pinned the lithe form of her tightly to his chest – the push of her armor clanking against itself in the process, but for her part…Vega smiled merrily. His joyfulness was simply contagious. However, she suddenly felt the brush of heavy fur across her back, the brief glimpse of long hairy arms enveloping around her pauldrons before a snapping shout of protest unleashed from just above Vega's head.

"Hey! You is not invited! Vega is not wanting to smell like dirty man-bear!"

The Miche released both deities with a grumble – shuffling away back into the innards of the forge, scratching his head and twitching the coarse hair that grew in titanic mustache tuffs just under the crinkle of his small black snout. Nicolas gave Vega a final crush to the chest before releasing her with another rolling laugh, her feet upon the ground once more.

"I sorry," Nicolas smiled. "Sometimes it easy to get carried away. You probably do not want to smell sweated old god either."

"It is completely alright Saint Nicolas," Vega replied. "Do not think anything of it."

Her smile was sincere and flushed with genuine kindness, but there was something about the turn of her eyes, the shift of her head and the intertwining of her fingers that gave Nicolas pause.

"You is troubled," he said lowly with a slight worry to his bushed eyebrows. "What is it? You come to me – you alright?"

Vega nodded slowly, but her gaze grew mirrored and sober. "I have a favor Nicolas," she answered in a tight whisper. "I am sorry, but I trust no one else with this."

Saint Nicolas frowned further, his mouth turning down in concern. He bowed his head, bringing his eyes level to hers – for Vega was tall, but Nicolas was a giant of a man – towering, intimidating and strong; yet jolly and compassionate.

"Come," he answered back sheathing the new gold-leaf steel in its amber embellished scabbard. The companion piece to the lustrous sword was just as elaborate – Vega saw the flash of fire opals and spessartite scattered in the face along with the delicate twine of imprinted shafts of sprigs and wheat. Symbols so appropriate for the goddess of autumn and harvest.

"We talk in workshop," Nicolas continued leading her away from the blacksmiths burning hearth. "We is not being disturbed there."

They remained silent as they moved through the under bellows of Nicolas's dwelling. Passing Miche, laboring with growling and incoherent muttered voices. Nicolas would occasionally unleash an order: a call for more heat, to strike the hammer more to the left, or perhaps the pour of more steam against the make of iron. His dwelling was always a blur of activity: a mass of whirling color, sound and commotion. Vega ducked without a moment's hesitation as waterfall of gems, alive with glittering hues cascaded overhead only to end up – in perfect precision, in the waiting basket of a nearby Miche. She saw the creation of so many pieces of armored art; in bronze, silver, steel and gold. The gleam of weapons; axes, swords and spears…and of course the push of blaze and flame in the smithy of Saint Nicolas.

They passed up through the stairs, towards a large door that was made of stained glass. It was ornamented with iron, black as ebony to secure the kaleidoscopic of colors that made up surface and once they passed through the door, Vega found herself in a high beamed room…filled with wood and metal, gold and silver. On the North end of the wall was a great window, gazing out into the beauty of Eldervale – an unhindered paradise filled with sunshine, or the ethereal glow of moonlit stars. Here Nicolas began all his inventions, his concepts and handiwork. Here was a placed that birthed his wonder.

"So," Nicolas started as he shut the door. Vega made to stand by the window, turning slowly to face him – hands clasped, her lovely face still unsmiling and solemn. "You are needing my help? Anything I can do…you have my full support."

She gave a small smile, her almond shaped eyes softening for just a moment. "Thank you, but I am afraid this won't be easy. What I am asking…I'm not sure where you might start or if it can even be done…"

"Ah, now we are getting down to brass of tacks…"

"Indeed," Vega replied and as her gaze turned away Nicolas could see the flash of vibrancy behind her dark lashes. The dart of her vivid eyes back and forth.

"Nicolas, have you ever heard of the _Semideus_?" She asked at last.

Whatever he had been expecting – it was not the use of that antiquated word. He had heard of one, of course…but not in a very, _very long time._ The finer details of what _exactly they might be _were faded and forgotten. He gave a frowned half nod and shrug in reply.

"My memory is not so sharp on subject," he said gruffly. "Formidable mortals…but there not been since ancient Greeks. Thousands years ago now…"

"Not more powerful ones at least," Vega began. "We have seen a few born throughout the ages, but not since Jason or Calais have we seen any with significant abilities…not till _now_. In fact, it is a descendant of Calais, many generations past that is causing a rift in the mortal plane below."

The old deity stilled at once. His shoulders became tight and he blinked, rubbing his still ashed hands over the threads of his long white beard.

"You is finding one? A _true Semideus_?"

Vega nodded very slowly. "Yes Nicolas, a _powerful _one at that. But she has no idea what she's capable of…no handle on the devastating force that is surging within her. I am afraid for her. I am afraid that she will hurt someone, or that maybe…_someone will hurt her instead."_

Nicolas's face grew very grim and thoughtful. Though she may never form the words…though she may never say _his name – _Nicolas knew of whom Vega spoke. He knew of the darkness that would grasp at any chance to obtain _power_. Power that he had been searching and _craving _for so long. "What are you needing from me? What can I be doing to help?"

"I need a channel," Vega answered. "Something that can not only conceal this child's unbounded soul from others…but also something that could focus that power. Contain and shape it, so that in time – she might learn to control it."

Nicolas grumbled and hummed to himself. Standing he paced about the workshop's length, the scuff of his own armored boots resounding across the floor. Vega remained unmoving, waiting in the low light of the sun – watching as the great deity wrestled with the notion of such a suggestion.

"You is right…it not easy," he said at last. "What kind of powers does little one have?"

"Winter," Vega replied. "She has the ability to create ice and snow."

Here Nicolas stopped and laughed, shaking his belly with a hearty roll. "Ah – the sphere of our _roguish _deity, bringer of winter himself. Is he _knowing _of this girl?"

Vega gave him a wiry smile. "Yes…he knows her."

He laughed again, shaking his head back and forth in slight exasperation. "That is sticky situation."

"To put it mildly."

Saint Nicolas resumed his pacing then, his abundant eyebrows furrowed and his mind flooded with an overflow of questions, plans and ideas. But most of all – _excitement. _A marvel at the opportunity to create something _new. _He relished the challenge.

"I will do it," he said at last. "I will begin work immediately. We shall see what I may forge and perhaps – we construct what the mortal is needing."

"You must hurry Sinterklaas," Vega broke in, striding across the floor with a voice low and filled with forewarning. "Something is _coming…_but I don't know what. I am afraid the time grows short. The Winter Solstice is approaching and then – then the watchful nights may close in."

"I will not fail you friend," Nicolas said then, meeting her eyes and clasping her plated wrist in a motion of solidarity. "Not you…or _Manny_."

Vega's face broke into dazzling grin at the teasing nickname Saint Nicolas had always given to Isar Lunar. She laughed for the first time since stepping foot into the depth of the forges.

"I know," she smiled gently. "And thank you."

* * *

Anna was still angry at her. Four days, three uncomfortable dinners and two tense phone calls later - Elsa could still not get past the reserved and aloof wall that her younger sister had erected since she had expressed her, somewhat _disapproving _opinion, of Anna's sudden relationship with Hans Osmond. There was nothing she could do, no words or actions she could take that would erase this frustrating rift between them. That first evening, when Elsa arrived back at her Aunt and Uncle's home she had tried to apologize for the _way _she had gone about handling Anna's recent revelation – but she had still remained firm in the belief that you don't just become serious with someone you _just met! _The conversation had abruptly ended with some choice angry words from Anna, a storm from the dinner table and a sad, but sympathizing glance from her Aunt Beatrice. Four days later. No one was budging. Elsa had grown to detest the infamous Hans Osmond…though his appearance had not yet materialized at their home – _he _was the reason for the odd change in Anna's behavior. _He _was the catalyst that made this crushing cavity in Elsa's chest pulse ever harder and heavier. Elsa rubbed her cold fingers over her eyes in what seemed like the thousandth time as she tried to shrug away these dark feelings of somber loneliness. But it never provided any hint of relief.

Elsa shook her head and tried to focus. A spread of textbooks lay before her, including a mass of notes, jumbles of pens and the luminous screen of her laptop all waiting patiently for her continued research. She didn't have time to dwell on other things – not when another project was needing her undivided attention. _Demanding _was more appropriate to tell the truth…

Releasing a sigh she didn't know she had been holding Elsa flipped through the pages of the nearest giant tome that lay just to her left. It was a report for her Mythology in Literature class, a thematic delve into the relationships between gods and mortals – as shown in ancient epic poetry pieces like the _Iliad _andthe _Odyssey _by Homer, or even the more recent _Eros and Psyche _by Robert Bridges. Consuming and intriguing, Elsa's eyes darted about the length of text – accumulating a series of highlights and scribbled notes for her research; remarks like themes, divinity, conflict and heroic feats of valor. Shaking her head off-handedly, Elsa gave a small thin smile. There never seemed to be a _smooth _and _peaceful _path when gods disturbed the lives of mortals.

Her thoughts suddenly began to wander as she reached the mention of Eros meeting the mortal Psyche for the first time. It brought up other memories…ones that she had been trying so desperately to squelch, stifle and ignore. Four days…four days since she had met that charismatic young man in the courtyard. Four days since she had felt the brush of her fingers within her own…and four days since she couldn't stop _thinking about him._

Elsa slammed her pen down in frustration, wringing her hands to tousle her loose hair. The library's quiet second floor, in which she had camped herself, had originally provided her with much needed room to think and breathe…and now…now she didn't _want to think _because it always came back _to him. _That frustratingly alluring and annoyingly handsome _Jack. _That illusive _Jack. _The Jack she hadn't seen since their snow flurried meeting in the courtyard that morning.

It's not that Elsa had been _hoping _she would see him again. No. _Of course not. _And she hadn't been making extra trips around the Student Union for the last few afternoons in the casual case she might chance another encounter. That would be _ridiculous _and _childish. _No – she had merely made those out-of-the-way excursions to see more of the campus. Yes, of course. _That was all. _Nothing more.

Groaning in absolute aggravation Elsa resolved to return to her work. She could not get distracted by this…it was absolute ridiculousness. She had things to accomplish – other, much more pressing worries to concern herself with…rather than wonder about beguiling boys with silver white hair and lashes as cold and delicate as frost. Steeling herself Elsa dipped her head and focused hard on the screen before her, the rapid succession of typed keys resounding in the quiet library hall. So renewed in her attack on her projects that she didn't even hear him approach until it was too late.

"You know what they say about all work and no play right?"

Elsa's fingers froze instantly. It seemed that her body thundered through a mountainous round of changes in only the briefest of moments. Her face went flush and hot, her heart pole-vaulted from the pit of her stomach up to the crest of her throat and her mouth suddenly went as dry as a bone.

"So this is where you've been hiding out. I must say it was an excellent choice…I had a hard time finding you."

Elsa watched with a held breath, tight in her chest as Jack – _the Jack _easily collapsed into a seat just opposite from her at the table. He was just as she remembered: jeans, blue hoodie, exuding casual confidence…but she didn't remember his eyes being so incredibly striking and impish, nor the way his tousled hair fell just _so_ around his well-structured face.

"I haven't been hiding anywhere," she whispered in reply with a furrowed brow.

"It was the last place I thought to go – not really much of a _sit and study _kind of guy…but I don't know why I didn't think to look _for you_ here first."

Elsa blinked, her eyes widening just briefly staring back at him with slight skepticism. "You were looking for me?"

He smiled at her, a grin that reached all the way up to his eyes. "What would you say if I was?"

Elsa snorted and dropped her head, trying to retain _some _composure, though it was slipping like sand through her open fingers.

"I wouldn't say anything," she replied trying to interject some coolness into her tone. "Only that this time I'm glad you didn't use a snowball to grab my attention."

"I could if you would like," he said leaning back in his chair. "Maybe we could get lucky and it will snow again. Want to try?"

"I don't think so," Elsa retorted turning a few pages in the great book she had been perusing just a few moments ago. "I've got too much to do and I don't think…"

"You're sad again."

Elsa's head shot up at once. Jack was now looking at her with a frown, his mouth turned down in tender unease and the sweep of his eyes covering over her face. Elsa felt her heart give a sudden lurch. Her ribs suddenly hurt and a great rush of despondency threatened to overwhelm her. She pushed it down as best she could, hoping for a blank slate to her features.

"Wha – What? No…no I'm not…"

"Yes you are," he snapped back, firmly but gently. Jack would not be moved. "I can just feel it."

Elsa dropped her head, the cascade of her long hair falling like a gossamer curtain from her small shoulders. She intertwined the fingers that lay in her lap, sub consciously picking away at the flecks of ice that rimmed her nails. She couldn't even wonder at why they had suddenly appeared. Her head was filled with a turbulence of emotions, allowing for nothing but grief to entertain her mind.

"And so what if I am?" she asked at last lifting her gaze to meet his. "Isn't that a part of life? Sadness, worry or…or…_pain? _I can't escape this storm inside of me. Bringing attention to it solves nothing."

"So concealment is your plan? Burying it so you can't feel _anything_? What about moving forward - how about having _fun _instead?"

"Fun?" Elsa blinked at him, the scowl on her face dropping in sudden disbelief. "You think fun will…"

"Oh I know _fun will help. _And as I'm an expert on the subject, I'll teach you. We can start with a _date_."

Elsa could swear she felt the earth grind to a halt beneath her feet. "_A date_?"

"I want to take you out," Jack continued suddenly looking quite shy, darting his eyes away from hers. Elsa struggled to maintain some handle on herself and tried her best not to find the action incredibly _endearing._ "I want to make you smile, make you laugh…I want you to _have fun_. Maybe – maybe forget about all your hurts for a little while. I want to be the one to do that…If you'll let me…"

Elsa's heart stilled within her chest and a horde of butterflies suddenly awoke within her to besiege the inside of her stomach. There was a long and prominent pause – where Elsa felt herself standing on the edge of _something. _Something vast and foreign and nameless, but there were other things too…hope, joy, _exhilaration. _She wondered if took this first step – this first and greatest step, if she would tumble off the edge…or fly upwards instead. Everything was so _confusing _lately.

As her jumbled thoughts tried to sort themselves out in some semblance of an answer she heard Jack's hesitant and disheartened voice break through her muddled mind. "Look, I didn't mean…"

"Okay," she said suddenly, all the pieces snapping together as if they were always meant to be. She watched him blink rapidly in surprise.

"Okay, what…"

"Okay I'll go out with you."

The grin that stretched across Jack's face was so exultant to look at, Elsa almost had to turn away…except she was almost positive she bore one just like it on her own mouth.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_And North FINALLY makes his dramatic appearance! Yea! All the guardians are now accounted for._

_In this story, Santa Claus is rather the representation of Hephaestus, the Ancient Greek god for fire, crafting and blacksmiths. I thought it was appropriate for him to be a creator, a forger – someone who makes things. He still has his big and sturdy Yeti helpers to assist him, though here they are called the Miche – which is Tibetan word for the legendary creature. It literally means 'man-bear,' which Nicolas alludes to when one so rudely tries to reign in on his friendly embrace of Vega._

_The Nicolas in this story has many names, but the one Vega uses for him – Saint Sinterklaas, is the name for the figure on which the present day Santa Claus has come to be based upon. The actual history of Santa Claus is fascinating…turns out the guy has MANY different names under his belt…all representing a figures of goodwill, charity and kindness. Hopefully, regardless of how he's called, those traits are still apparent in this story's version of St. North._

_Calais was a demigod and the son of the north wind and the winter god Boreas in Greek Mythology. Boreas was the 'bringer of winter' and though he has no relation to Jack Frost in this story, I thought having Elsa as a descendant of another 'cold, north' demigod was a fun add-in. Jason, is of course, a reference to Jason and the Argonauts. _

_If you took any English class in high school then you should be familiar with the epic poetry pieces of the Iliad and the Odyssey (both brilliant I might add), but Eros and Psyche mentioned here was a more recent writing, done in 1885. Originally the story is from the novel Metamorphoses, a Latin work written back in the 2__nd__ century and tells the story of the love between Psyche, a mortal and Eros (or cupid) a god. Are you seeing a correlation here? Wink, wink…Check it out if you're interested in ancient literature (like me) or you're just a super nerd (like me) and like learning about random awesome stuff. Do I sound like your teacher yet? Good, I WILL make you learn something! *pushes glasses back up nose*_

_I cannot thank you ENOUGH for all the favorites, reviews and follows. It makes me so happy I want to cry! I'm so glad that many of you like this story…it's getting even more fun to write each time._

_Did you know every time you review, an angel gets its wings? Or I at least write another paragraph… ;)_

_- Aulani_


End file.
